


Miracles Managed

by aintitnifty



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintitnifty/pseuds/aintitnifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a certain Generation of Miracles attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and must deal with rivalries, first loves, Quidditch matches, and accidentally turning each other into water fowl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys. this... is going to be big.
> 
> i've been writing drabbles for my kurobas hogwarts AU for months now, and i've finally decided that it's high time for me to hunker down and post them.
> 
> consider this a short story cycle. the chapters won't necessarily be in chronological order, and i'll add characters and pairings as they pop up, but i'm going to try to feature as many characters as possible, so deep breaths, everyone.
> 
> before we begin, i owe a huge amount of gratitude and love to two of my favorite people ever, [kate](http://mibuchicchi.tumblr.com/) and [vicky](http://vickah.tumblr.com/), who have been amazingly supportive cheerleaders throughout all of this writing and planning and have let me rant to them about hogwarts AU god only knows how many times, and who will end up being co-authors at some point in the near future because, let's be real, tons of these stories are their babies just as much as they are mine, so _thank you_ both so much, you are wonderful and i love you!
> 
> rating may change as chapters progress, and there also might be more pairings added.
> 
> and... yeah, i think that's all for now!
> 
> enjoy!

Kagami threw out a hand to steady himself as the train jerked, rattling at a rather unsettling pace around a curve in the tracks. A girl let out a shrill laugh in the compartment to his right; he tried not to dwell on whether that laugh was directed at him.

He straightened, letting out a long breath. Every compartment he’d passed so far was already full of laughing, chatting students. The last thing he wanted was to be that annoying first year who barged in on a group of older students while looking for a place to sit, so Kagami was determined to find an empty compartment.

The Hogwarts Express was _huge_. There had to be at least one, right?

Kagami hitched his bag more securely over his shoulder and continued his trek down the narrow, carpeted hall. He passed a compartment full of lounging seventh years, some of whom were already sporting green and silver ties. Next came a compartment of giggling third year girls, two of whom made eye contact with him as he passed and then began to whisper to each other. (Kagami definitely did _not_ blush at that, and he certainly didn’t quicken his pace to pass the compartment more quickly.) Finally, he passed a compartment with two sullen first year boys, which Kagami grudgingly counted as an option if he failed to find an empty compartment, but then his search yielded success.

The empty compartment was at the end of the fourth train car. Kagami slid the door open and collapsed with a sigh of relief onto the seat near the window. He tossed his bag on the cushion beside him and turned his gaze to the window, watching the countryside fly by. There were fewer towns and houses now, replaced by copses of tall, dark trees and fields that seemed to go on for miles.

That was when it finally hit Kagami that he was going to be away at school for the better part of a year. He wouldn’t see his father again until June. There would be Christmas holidays, sure, but there was also a good chance that his father would be away on business for the Ministry during that time (as usual), so Kagami would be going back to an empty house if he went back at all. And even though Kagami knew that Tatsuya would be around at Hogwarts, he didn’t want to have to rely on his “big bro” to help him make friends. Tatsuya had already offered to let Kagami sit with him and his Ravenclaw friends on the train, but Kagami had refused; he didn’t want to be known as Tatsuya’s little tagalong brother from day one of his Hogwarts experience, so he’d struck out on his own.

Hence why he was alone.

Kagami cleared his throat and swiped at his eyes, cursing himself for getting emotional over something as stupid as sitting in a train compartment by himself. He had _chosen_ to be alone. It was what he wanted. He was being stupid. He just had to think about something else.

“Um. Excuse me.”

Kagami almost jumped out of his skin, startled by the quiet voice, barely audible over the rattling of the train but still loud enough to shatter the silence in the compartment. Kagami stared at the pale boy sitting across from him. Blue eyes stared back, unflinching, unnervingly placid.

“ _Jeez_ , how—how long have you been there?” Kagami asked, one hand clutching his chest. Damnit, his voice was trembling, and he could feel his heart racing a mile a minute.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” the boy said. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad, I’m thinking,” Kagami said, fighting the urge to wipe his eyes again, just in case there was still some evidence of tears.

“It’s okay to be sad,” the boy said. “I was sad before you came in.”

“Oh yeah?” Kagami said, and although he felt a little bad for being so defensive, his heart was still pounding against his ribs so he figured it was justified. “Why?”

The boy shrugged and looked out the window. “It’s a long story.” He stayed quiet for a moment and Kagami wondered if that was the end of their conversation, if they’d just end up sitting in awkward silence for the remainder of the train ride, but then the boy turned to him again, still wearing that calm expression, and said, “My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. What’s yours?”

“Kagami Taiga.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kuroko said, and Kagami thought he saw the smallest hint of a smile on the boy’s face. “Are you a first year, too?”

“How could you tell?” said Kagami, smiling a little, and this time Kuroko’s smile was brighter.

“I have a sixth sense for these kinds of things,” he said. “Also you’re not wearing any house colors.”

Kagami glanced down at his plain outfit of jeans and a dark hoodie.

“Yeah, I saw some kids already in their school robes. Is that normal?” he asked.

Kuroko shrugged. “Prefects have to wear their robes. Other students just like to show off their house pride, I think.”

Kagami grunted. “You know what house you’ll be in?”

Kuroko’s eyes went strangely shadowed at that, and he turned to look out the window again, his lips pulled down in a frown. “I’m not sure.”

“My dad was a Gryffindor,” Kagami said, figuring it was probably best not to press the issue too much; he could tell a sore spot when he saw one. “So I’m thinking I’ll probably be the same.”

“What about your mother?”

“My mother was a Muggle.”

Kuroko looked surprised at that; his eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”

“What, you’ve never met a half-blood before?” Kagami asked, bristling slightly.

“No, of course I have, it’s just…” Kuroko trailed off, shaking his head with a smile. “What I was thinking about, before you came in. It was a family thing.” He frowned. “A family- _friends_ thing. Sorry, it’s not important. It was just an interesting coincidence.”

“Right,” Kagami said, slowly, wondering just how crazy this kid was.

That was when Kuroko’s bag barked.

Kagami had pulled his feet up onto the seat and squeezed into the corner near the window before he even registered moving.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes fixed on the wriggling bag.

Kuroko was staring at him like _Kagami_ was the crazy one, which was ridiculous, really, because it wasn’t _his_ bag that had just started barking and moving, but then Kuroko blinked and leaned down to lift a small black and white puppy from his bag.

“This is Nigou,” Kuroko said, plopping the puppy in his lap. The puppy yipped, pink tongue lolling.

“That’s a dog,” Kagami said.

“Yes.”

“You can’t have a dog here.”

Kuroko frowned, and even the puppy tilted its head quizzically. “Why not?”

“Because they’re not allowed at Hogwarts,” Kagami said, hoping he didn’t sound too frantic, but damnit, the dog was _staring at him_ with its strange blue eyes, and he could just tell it wanted to rip out his throat or pee on his shoes or do something equally terrible. “You can only have a cat or an owl or a toad. No dogs.”

“But Nigou is my pet, and I can’t send him back now,” Kuroko said, rubbing the puppy’s ears. “Maybe I can get permission from my head of house. Or I’ll just keep him a secret. He doesn’t make too much noise.”

“He just barked,” Kagami said. “Twice. That’s plenty of noise.”

“Then I’ll train him to be quiet,” Kuroko said. “Are you all right? You’re acting very strange.”

“I’m fine,” Kagami said, trying not to focus on the dog’s constant staring. “Can you just—can you put it away?”

“He just wants some fresh air,” said Kuroko. “And he won’t hurt you. Here.” Kuroko held the puppy out at arm’s length, letting its little white paws dangle.

Kagami pressed himself against the back of his seat, as far from the dog as he could possibly get.

“Look, I’m just not really a dog person, okay?” he said, the words coming out in a panicked rush.

Kuroko blinked at him. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there not to understand?” Kagami said with a scowl. “I just don’t like dogs.”

“But Nigou is a puppy. Everybody likes puppies.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Kuroko was quiet for a moment, but at least he brought Nigou back to his lap. The puppy yipped again and started gnawing on one of Kuroko’s fingers. Kagami watched it with narrowed eyes, waiting for the inevitable scream and blood when the finger came off.

“Is there a reason you don’t like dogs?” Kuroko asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, there is.”

Kuroko’s brow furrowed. He nodded. “Okay then.” He lowered Nigou gently into his bag and started to pack up, slinging his coat over his arm and getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Kagami asked, startled.

“I’m taking Nigou somewhere else,” Kuroko said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. Maybe I’ll see you around at school.” He took a step toward the door, but Kagami reached out and caught him by the elbow.

“Wait,” Kagami said. “You can stay. Just. I just don’t want to touch the dog, okay? It was fine before I noticed it, it’ll be fine again now.”

Kuroko stared at him for a second, and then his expression went oddly soft.

“Okay,” he said, letting his bag slide from his shoulder onto the seat again. “Thank you. I didn’t really want to find another compartment.”

“Yeah, they were all pretty full when I passed them. It took me a while to find this one. Although,” Kagami added with a little smirk, “at first I thought this one was empty. Sorry about that.”

“I get that a lot, actually,” Kuroko said. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“So do you—?”

Kagami was interrupted by the sound of racing footsteps outside their compartment, and then the compartment door slid open with a slam, revealing a panting blond boy about their age.

“Kurokocchi, there you are! Can I hide in here for a second?” he asked, breathless.

“Um,” said Kuroko, which the boy apparently took for a “yes,” because he slipped inside and closed the door and sank to the ground below the compartment window, curling into a tight ball.

“Act normal,” he hissed, waving a hand at Kagami and Kuroko. “I’m not even here.”

Kagami stared at the boy, then at Kuroko, who shrugged.

“Kise-kun, who are you hiding from?” Kuroko asked, although he looked at Kagami as he spoke so anyone outside the door would think he was talking to him.

“Girls,” the boy—Kise—said. “Apparently some of them got a hold of the article about me in _Witch Weekly_ and they all want me to autograph it and take pictures with them.”

“Don’t you usually like that?” Kuroko asked.

“Not on the first day of school,” Kise said. “It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to—” He broke off and put a finger to his lips, pointing up toward the window, and Kagami glanced over to see a pack of girls already dressed in their school robes pass by the window, chattering excitedly.

Kise breathed a huge sigh of relief when the girls passed and finally uncurled, stretching his long legs over the floor of the compartment.

“Thanks, Kurokocchi,” he said. “I owe you one.”

“Anytime,” Kuroko said, although he sounded a little baffled.

“Who’s your friend?” Kise asked, eyeing Kagami curiously.

“Kagami Taiga,” Kagami said.

“Another first year, hm?” Kise got to his feet in one fluid motion and brushed some of the dust from his jeans. He held out a hand to Kagami, flashing him a winning smile. “I’m Kise Ryouta. Kurokocchi and I are old friends.”

Kagami shook Kise’s hand and was surprised and pleased by the boy’s firm grip.

“Why aren’t you sitting with everyone else?” Kuroko asked Kise, and he was wearing that strange, shadowed expression again, making his eyes appear darker.

“Well, I _was_ sitting with Aominecchi and Momoicchi before those girls came along,” Kise said, his lips pursing into a displeased moue. “And before that we were all sitting with Akashicchi and Midorimacchi, but then Murasakicchi decided he wanted snacks so the four of us decided to leave Akashicchi and Midorimacchi to one of their ‘discussions’—” He put scare-quotes around “discussions” and Kuroko nodded, so Kagami supposed that must have been a usual thing for those two. “—while we hunted down the witch with the snack cart for Murasakicchi.” Kise frowned, looking over his shoulder into the hallway. “I wonder if they ever found her.”

“Did anyone—” Kuroko broke off, and Kagami saw his hands clench in his lap, knuckles paling, before he continued: “Did anyone ask about me?”

Kise’s expression softened. “Of course. We missed you on the platform today. I thought we were all meeting up.”

“Even Akashi-kun?”

Kise’s jaw clenched. “Akashicchi needs some time to adjust. He’ll come around, you know he will. It’ll be better now that he’s away from his fa—” He broke off, his gaze flicking to Kagami. “Well. It’ll be fine now. You’ll see.” Kise stretched languidly and glanced out the window of the compartment. “Looks like the coast is clear. I’m gonna see if I can’t find our dear friends again. Who knows what kind of trouble they’ve gotten themselves into while I’ve been gone.” He slid the door open and waved over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Kagami Taiga! I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

Kagami waved, in a bit of a daze after the blur of energy that was Kise Ryouta, and then Kise was gone and their compartment was quiet once more.

“So,” Kagami said at length, still staring at the closed compartment door. “Friend of yours?”

Kuroko was smiling softly, and Kagami could tell with one glance that some of the tension had lifted from his shoulders. “One of a few,” Kuroko said. “You’ll meet them all soon enough, I’m sure.”

“It must be nice, knowing people at Hogwarts,” Kagami said. “I only have my friend Tatsuya.”

“And me.”

Kagami blinked, turning away from the compartment door, and then he grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “And you.”

“And Kise.”

Kagami snorted. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“And Nigou.”

Kuroko must have seen the way that Kagami paled at that, because he let out a quiet laugh—the first that Kagami had heard from him—and said, “Don’t worry, he’ll stay in the bag.”

“Good,” Kagami said, relaxing slightly. “Man, I feel bad for your roommates, whoever they turn out to be.”

Kuroko frowned. “Nigou is very well behaved. And my roommates would be lucky to have such a cute dog living with them. They’ll be used to him in no time.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to let me know about that, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kuroko said, smiling again. “Yeah, I guess I will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Seijuurou stood alone in his father’s study, staring at the tapestry that covered the room’s windowless wall. His eyes traced the roots of the gold-woven tree up into a thick, intricate trunk that split into eight magnificent curling branches, threaded through with ruby and bronze and pearl. He followed one branch down, down to its very end, to a sprig with his father’s name on it, and sprouting from that, a single golden leaf: _Seijuurou_.  
Just as he reached out—to touch the leaf, to smother it, to rip it away, he did not know—a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, making him freeze.

“Look, Seijuurou,” said his father, his sharp, dark eyes fixed on the Akashi family tree. “Twelve generations, completely pure. The oldest wizarding family in this country, one of the oldest in the world.” His hand tightened on Seijuurou’s shoulder, almost painful. “And every one a Slytherin.”

Seijuurou stared at the leaf bearing his name, and then glanced up at another branch, a smaller branch, a branch with an entire sprig burnt into ashes and charred thread, blasted away by his father’s wand not two years ago. Seijuurou knew whose name should be there, and in his mind’s eye he saw sad, pale blue eyes disappearing in the rearview mirror of a Ministry issued car, eyes he would not see again for two whole years.

Until, perhaps, today.

Seijuurou’s father tracked Seijuurou’s gaze and his hand tightened once more, hard enough for Seijuurou to wince.

“Remember your family, Seijuurou,” he said. “Your _real_ family. Do not get sucked in with the blood traitors we used to know. Concentrate on your studies, on your Quidditch game. Strive to be an asset to Slytherin House.” He paused, then added, “To _this_ house. Understood?”

“Yes, Father,” Seijuurou said, because that was the expected response.

“Good.” Seijuurou’s father stepped away. “Now, I must attend to business at the Ministry, so Ryosuke will be taking you to King’s Cross. I expect to hear great things from you this year.”

“Yes, Father.”

Seijuurou’s father eyed him, then reached out a hand to pat his head.

“My boy,” he said. “Make me proud.”

Seijuurou stared at his father, keeping his face carefully expressionless, and waited until the hand lifted from his head to respond.

“Yes, Father,” he said. “I will.”

*

“Here is fine,” Seijuurou said as they pulled up to the train station. He turned to the driver. “I won't need you to accompany me any further.”

Ryosuke gave him a dubious look. “My instructions are to escort you to the platform.”

“I'm meeting a friend,” Seijuurou said. “His parents are friends of my father's. If you must, you may wait with me for him.”

Ryosuke's frown deepened.

“Please,” Seijuurou said, and it cost him something to ask like this. “Let me have my freedom at school, if nothing else.”

Ryosuke cleared his throat as if to embark on a lecture, some watered down version of a speech he'd heard from his father several dozen times, but by some mercy, Shintarou walked around the corner at that moment, the top of his hair just visible over the towering trolley he was pushing.

Seijuurou sighed in relief, and cut a curt nod to Ryosuke. “Midorima Shintarou,” he said, and knew Ryosuke would recognize the name. “If you consider him unfit to accompany me to the platform, I'm sure his father would like to know about it.”

Ryosuke looked uncomfortable, but said, “Very well,” as his only other choice was to insist on accompanying the boys, thereby embarrassing Seijuurou's father when the news of his slight got back to Shintarou's family. Seijuurou breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't Atsushi who'd come around the corner, or worse, _Daiki_ , neither of whose families his father held in particularly high esteem.

“Shintarou,” he called, causing his friend to stop in his tracks, and a Muggle woman in a long coat behind him to lose her balance and nearly fall into him.

“Watch where you're going!” she snapped. Shintarou shrank back, and his owl gave an angry screech in retribution.

“Shintarou,” Seijuurou said again, watching Ryosuke load his belongings onto his trolley. “Wait there for a moment, I'll walk with you.”

Shintarou nodded, flinching again as another Muggle traingoer gave him an ugly look and navigated around him.

“You shouldn't mind them,” Seijuurou said, once they were headed down the ramp together. “They're just Muggles.”

Midorima let out a quiet breath and adjusted his glasses. They were a bit too big, Seijuurou noticed. “Of course,” he said. “I just didn't think there'd be quite so many of them, I suppose.”

In truth, Seijuurou had been a bit put off by the crowds when they'd arrived at the station as well. He'd seen it before, of course, but never with the same sense of purpose, and this was really the only place he'd _ever_ seen a high concentration of Muggles. It was overwhelming, their strange clothing, the way they spoke to one another, the way they wove in and out of the crowed expertly, never losing sight of their destination, their footfalls quick and uniform.

_Like livestock_ , his father would say. Seijuurou averted his eyes in favor of peering up at the platform numbers.

“Do you know how it works?” Shintarou asked in a whisper. “I've never actually been _through_ to the platform – ”

“Of course I do,” Seijuurou said. It wasn't entirely a lie, he'd heard Ryouta talk about it enough times. Atsushi would surely know as well, though it was highly unlikely either of them would be arriving in a timely manner today.

“Why aren't your parents here?” he asked Shintarou, in part to ease his nerves.

“My sister has dragon pox,” Shintarou said. “A mild case, she got it when we were vacationing in Norway over the summer. But both my parents are with her and the in-house Healer at home.”

“Ah,” Seijuurou nodded. They were drawing nearer to Platform Nine, and he could see several precariously stacked trolleys starting to mill into the space. He thought he recognized a face or two, undoubtably people who worked for his father, in some capacity or another. Seijuurou was certain he'd met the entire Ministry or Magic by this point.

“Oi, Akashi,” a voice said, familiar and slightly surprising. “What, no chaperone today?”

“Daiki.” Seijuurou stared coolly up at him... _way_ up, Daiki had clearly put some kind of hex on himself, no one outside the Murasakibara family could grow like that naturally.

“Ha,” Daiki grinned, walking up to Shintarou and folding his arms. “Almost as tall as you now.” He ducked under Shintarou's arm and pinched his shoulder, laughing. “Still think you can keep up with me on a broom?”

Shintarou sniffed. “'Keeping up with you' is hardly the point,” he said. “Quidditch is a game of accuracy first, and speed second.”

“Yeah, keep saying that. When I'm a Gryffindor Chaser I'm gonna whip your ass out there.”

Shintarou twitched. “You shouldn't make assumptions, Aomine,” he muttered, possibly in part to himself. “You'll tempt fate.”

Daiki opened his mouth, but someone else's hand quickly clapped over it. “You shouldn't torment Midorin, Aomine-kun,” Satsuki said reproachfully. “Look at him, he's terribly nervous.”

“I am _not_ ,” Shintarou protested, turning bright red. “I'm perfectly fine.”

Daiki batted her hand away and shot her a sullen look. “Still don't know why you're being so formal,” he grunted. “You sound like a teacher.”

Satsuki tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Because we're starting school now, and people will talk if we're too familiar. I know _you_ don't care about your reputation, but some of us actually do.”

Daiki rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Seijuurou exchanged a look with Shintarou, and decided to change the subject. “Should we head onto the platform, then?”

Satsuki shook her head. “I told Mukkun we'd wait for him,” she said. “And Tetsu – ”

“Satsuki,” Daiki said sharply.

She stopped abruptly. Everyone glanced at Seijuurou, and then looked away.

“ – that is, I told Mukkun we'd wait for him,” she said again, blushing and looking determinedly into the crowd. “He'll be here soon, I'm sure.”

“Daiki,” Seijuurou said after a moment. “Don't stare. It's rude.”

Daiki took absolutely no heed, and continued craning his head to look at the Muggles. “There's so many,” he said aloud. Too loud. “Hey, that one's got a basketball jersey!”

“Aomine-kun, please try to keep your voice down,” Satsuki said tiredly.

Seijuurou felt distinctly uncomfortable. “'Basketball'?” he inquired.

“Muggle sport,” Daiki shrugged. “Kise told me about it. It's a little like Quidditch, but no brooms, obviously. It's cool.”

“Do your parents know you've been playing Muggle sports?” Seijuurou asked, perhaps a little more acidly than he intended.

“They wouldn't give a shit,” Daiki said, though he didn't sound entirely certain.

He was probably right, Seijuurou had to concede. Daiki and Ryouta were from old pureblood families – not quite as old as Seijuurou's, but still prominent – that might've been considered blood traitors by his father, if they were closely related enough to cast any kind of shadow over the Akashi name. He supposed Daiki was his fourth or fifth cousin, far enough removed that it hardly mattered. But the Aomines had notably _not_ severed ties with the Kurokos, as so many had when Seijuurou's father had disowned his sister, mother, and brother-in-law. With Ryouta's family, it was practically beside the point, as his eldest sister was currently working for a Muggle model agency, of all things.

Shintarou's owl screeched again, making everyone jump.

“What the hell,” Daiki scowled, glaring at it. “Stupid bird.”

The owl flapped its wings menacingly. Shintarou said, “Kerosuke, stop that,” and prodded the cage with his finger, only to narrowly avoid being bitten.

“Nice owl,” a voice said from above them, and they all looked up to see Murasakibara Natsuki and her brother Toshio towering overhead, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Nii-san, move, you're blocking my way,” another voice grumbled.

They were all causing a bit of a traffic jam, actually. The arrival of the Murasakibara family had made everyone around them pause and gape openly. Atsushi, when he finally came into view, was dressed _very_ ineffectively in Muggle clothes; what appeared to be workman's coveralls that'd he'd simply given up on halfway through. The shoulder straps dangled around his waist, and Seijuurou could see from the stain on his t-shirt that he'd had porridge for breakfast.

It wasn't as if the Murasakibaras didn’t have money, they were quite well-off, but they'd always been a little... _odd_ , according to Seijuurou's father. Seijuurou supposed there was only so much control a parent could exercise over five enormous, unruly children, and it was unseemly to keep servants in this day and age, even Squibs. The idea of house-elves being any help with the children was laughable, although Atsushi did rather look like he'd been dressed by one.

“Atsushi, your trolley is going to collapse,” Natsuki said with an air of mild exasperation. “I thought Mom took all your extra snacks.”

“Not all of them,” Atsushi replied, with an unsubtle glance at the bulging knapsack strapped to his trunk. “I need pocket money,” he added, “For the sweets trolley.”

Daiki perked up. “Sweets trolley?”

“On the train,” Toshio said, narrowing his eyes. To Atsushi he said, “Dad _gave_ you pocket money.”

Atsushi deflated slightly. “I spent it.”

Toshio said, “That's your own fault. You can't have mine.”

Atsushi looked at Natsuki, who heaved a sigh.

“You know,” she said to Toshio, retrieving her coin purse and counting out several Sickles, “This is why you didn't get made Prefect. You're too greedy.”

Atsushi took the Sickles and said, “He didn't get made Prefect because he has bad grades. That's what Hiroji said.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Toshio said. “You better not get sorted into Slytherin; you're too annoying to put up with all the time.”

Daiki elbowed him. “You can be in Gryffindor with me; we'll be on the same team!”

Atsushi looked unmoved by this suggestion. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not playing Quidditch anymore. It's too much work, I only liked it before because we were playing for fun.”

Seijuurou frowned. He'd been counting on Atsushi being in Slytherin with him, which of course included being the Keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team. They'd have to have a discussion about it later, on the train perhaps. Atsushi was always more agreeable after being fed.

“Ah, Natsuki-chan!” a trilling voice called. Daiki and Toshio immediately looked around in interest, and several Muggles in the crowd stopped in their tracks.

Kise Reika was not _quite_ as famous as her older sister, but she was somewhat of a celebrity among young witches, and Seijuurou could admit that she was objectively very beautiful. She certainly looked the part of an idol, with her curtain of long golden hair, absurdly fitted blouse, tiny skirt and towering heels, nails long and polished when she waved cheerily towards them. Ryouta was at her side, equally polished, throwing a wink in the direction of a stunned-looking Muggle teenager, to Seijuurou's distaste.

_Honestly_.

Natsuki allowed Reika to hug her, grimacing slightly. “How was your summer?” she asked.

Ryouta bounced over to the rest of them, grinning. “Hey guys!”

“Where's your stuff?” Daiki asked.

Ryouta waved a hand carelessly. “Reika got some sixth-years to push them to the platform for us, I think she's giving them autographs in exchange.”

Satsuki glanced up at the overhead clock. “We should probably all be getting onto the platform soon, if we want there to be any seats left.”

“We should,” Seijuurou agreed. He glanced at the empty space between Platforms Nine and Ten, and hoped someone else would take the lead soon.

Toshio barked a laugh. “You don't know _how_ to get on the Platform, do you?”

Seijuurou glared at him. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“Go on, then.”

“Aka-chin,” Atsushi said, glaring at his brother. “Wait for me. I need to finish counting out my change.”

Shintarou looked extremely nervous, as if he thought he would be put on the spot next.

“It's just hidden, right?” Satsuki said, craning her neck curiously at the pillar between the two platforms. “So how do you get on?”

“Like this!” Reika chirped. She grabbed Natsuki at the wrist, beaming, and the two of them strode briskly toward the pillar, directly into it – and then they passed through it, and disappeared.

Daiki said, “Whoa.”

In a place as populated by Muggles as this, it _was_ impressive magic. Nothing he hadn't seen before, though. Seijuurou looked at Atsushi. “Are you finished? I'd like to get on the train now.”

Atsushi nodded, and steadied his trolley, placing one hand over the bag that presumably held all his snacks.

“Akashi,” Shintarou said, sounding uncertain.

“I'll go with you, Midorin,” Satsuki said. “Promise to catch me if I trip?”

Shintarou looked appeased, in his own way. “I would certainly endeavor to.”

Daiki looked sideways at Ryouta. “Guess I'm with you.”

Toshio rolled his eyes. “First-years are so annoying. Just _go_ already.”

It was unfortunate, Seijuurou thought as they strode towards the pillar, that Toshio was in Slytherin as well. He'd always been Seijuurou's least favorite of Atsushi's siblings.

“On three,” he said, unable to help but brace himself. “One – two – three – ”

The pillar vanished, and Seijuurou's vision swam.

“Hm,” Atsushi said. “Look, Aka-chin, there's the train.”

It was old-fashioned, a _proper_ train, nothing like the bizarrely round-faced machines in the Muggle train station. Steam billowed from the chimney, creating a comforting sort of haze around them, and Seijuurou immediately felt more at home.

One by one, his friends appeared around him. “Wow,” Satsuki said to Daiki, breathless. “We're really _here_.”

“'Course we are,” Daiki laughed, but his eyes were shining with excitement just like hers.

A movement in the crowd caught Seijuurou's eye, and before he could discipline himself against looking, he found himself making contact with a pair of disarmingly blue eyes. He looked away immediately, hoping his friends hadn't noticed.

A vain hope, evidently, as Daiki squinted into the crowd and said, “Was that – ?”

Ryouta said, “Let's find a compartment!”

“Yeah,” Atsushi nodded, looking relieved. “I'm tired of standing here. Let's go.”

Shintarou didn't seem to hear them, staying still and staring at his hands as Ryouta led the way onto the train. Seijuurou prodded him, and he looked up, startled.

“We're getting on the train,” Seijuurou said expectantly.

“Ah,” Shintarou nodded. He adjusted his glasses. “Sorry. I was just...thinking about my sister. I hope she's all right.” He bit his lip. “We're not going to see our families until Christmas.”

“You can still write to them,” Seijuurou said. “That's why you have Kerosuke.”

Shintarou looked abashed. “You're right,” she said. “And it's only a few months, I suppose.”

_I expect to hear great things from you this year_.

“Don't undersell it,” Akashi reprimanded him, hoping his tone wasn't lost under the rumbling of the train. “Hogwarts is our home now. We should make the most of it while we can. Besides,” he added, giving his trolley a firm push onto the train ramp, “A lot can happen in just a few months.”


	3. Chapter 3

Satsuki was shaking.

She barely noticed the sea of faces around her when the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Professor Masako ushered the pack of nervously shuffling first years through the doorway and between the tables, toward the front of the Hall. Hundreds of candles floated in midair just above the four long tables, and above that twinkled the ceiling, enchanted to mimic the darkening night sky, complete with puffy gray clouds scudding periodically across the moon and stars. Some of the students at the tables stood or craned their necks to see the newcomers. A few of them—siblings, perhaps, or old friends—waved at the first years, smiling at them, flashing them thumps up.

Satsuki barely noticed any of this. She had eyes only for the spindly stool sitting on the dais in front of the head table, and the patched and torn hat that sat upon it.

Her mother had told her about this hat. The Sorting Hat. The hat that would determine where she lived for the next seven years, who her classmates would be, to which house she would be eternally linked.

A light tug at the left sleeve of her robe brought her blinking back to herself, and she looked down to see that Daiki had taken a hold of her sleeve in a white-knuckled grip. Satsuki glanced at his face, but he showed no nerves, looking as confident as ever and even, perhaps, a little bored. Satsuki shook her sleeve a little to get him to loosen his grip, then took his hand firmly in hers, threading their fingers together. His palm was sweaty. She squeezed his fingers and smiled when he squeezed back.

By this time the first years were all gathered in a clump before the Sorting Hat, their expressions ranging from trepidation to barely contained excitement.

Satsuki looked up at the professors seated at the head table, expecting someone to stand and say something to break the silence that had fallen over the Great Hall, but all eyes were on the patched little hat. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the students, too, were staring expectantly at the hat.

“What now?” Satsuki whispered to Daiki, leaning into him a little, but he only shrugged.

Then a long tear along the hat’s brim opened up, and it burst into song.

Satsuki was too nervous to pay much attention to the hat’s song. She kept looking around the hall, taking in the professors, the other students, the pearlescent ghosts, the candles, the ceiling, and—mostly—Daiki. He appeared to be listening to the hat’s song, but his hand was still sweaty and tight around hers, and she could feel the tension in his shoulders when she leaned into him.

“We’ll be together,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure if he heard her beneath the hat’s final verse.

After the Sorting Hat finished its song and the raucous applause in the hall (coming mostly from the older students, along with a few wolf whistles and cheering) had died down, Professor Masako stepped onto the dais beside the Sorting Hat and fixed the first years with a steely gaze.

“Each of you will now try on the Sorting Hat,” she said, gesturing to said hat. “The hat will then decide into which house you will be sorted, and you will join your classmates at that table. We will proceed alphabetically.” She unfurled a long roll of parchment and called out the first name, and Satsuki abruptly felt like she wanted to throw up.

_Alphabetical_ , Professor Masako had said. Which meant…

“Akashi, Seijuurou.”

Satsuki watched as Akashi stepped up to the dais, looking pale and calm. He sat on the stool and waited patiently for the hat to be lowered onto his head. It hadn’t rested there for more than a second before a long tear opened around the brim and shouted, “SLYTHERIN!”

The Great Hall filled with applause coming from the Slytherin table, and Satsuki caught a glimpse of Akashi’s relieved smile as he left the dais, heading for his house.

“Aomine, Daiki.”

Daiki went completely rigid beside her, and then he was gone, making his way through the other first years to climb the dais and sit on the stool and try on that old patched hat. Satsuki’s hand suddenly felt cold.

The Sorting Hat sat on Daiki’s head for only five seconds before the rip at the brim opened wide and declared him, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The far table exploded in cheers and Daiki grinned as he removed the hat. He met Satsuki’s gaze before he left the dais and she forced a smile for him, but it vanished as soon as he took his seat beside the other Gryffindors. A couple of taller boys—third years, maybe, or fourth—had jammed onto the bench to get close to him and were patting his back, addressing him in low voices. Satuski could see their lips moving and could see Daiki’s face lighting up, but she couldn’t hear them over the distance, and she wondered why they needed to talk to him. But then the tallest of the boys—a broad-shouldered boy with messy brown hair and a pleasant smile—shifted and she saw the gleaming badge pinned to the front of his robes: Quidditch captain.

_Oh._

Satsuki’s stomach sank. She’d known that Daiki would want to play Quidditch, of course, and he definitely had the talent to make the team even in his first year, but to know that he’d be joining up with other students—older students—so early on in their time together at Hogwarts, well… Satsuki just hoped she wouldn’t be _completely_ forgotten.

The sorting continued while Satsuki tried not to dwell on the thought of facing Hogwarts alone, and soon there were new first years in every one of the four houses. Tetsu went to Gryffindor, Kise to Hufflepuff. A tall red-headed boy joined Daiki at the Gryffindor table, and Satsuki saw the Quidditch captain eye him, as well. She wondered vaguely how many team members the Gryffindor team had lost in the past year to be watching so diligently for new recruits.

Midorima had just been sorted into Ravenclaw when Professor Masako peered at her list and said:

“Momoi, Satsuki.”

Satsuki’s eyes went wide. She looked up at Professor Masako, who beckoned her forward.

Satsuki’s feet felt like lead. Her climb up to the dais seemed to take an eternity, but it was strangely all too soon when she felt the warm hat drop over her hair. It was too big for her and ended up falling past her eyes.

“Hmmm,” hummed a low voice in her ear, and she jumped. “Plenty of wit about you, isn’t there? A very bright girl. You’d do quite well in Ravenclaw…”

Cold dread spread through Satsuki’s chest, making her skin prickle.

_Please, no_ , she thought desperately. _Gryffindor. I want to be in Gryffindor. Please don’t put me in Ravenclaw, I need to be in Gryffindor._

“Gryffindor, eh?” The voice grunted. “Why so determined to be in that house?”

Satsuki couldn’t verbalize a response through her panic. Instead she thought of Daiki—his grinning face after he was sorted, his sweaty hand tightly grasping hers, his laugh when they would race their toy brooms around the little copse behind her house, the way he hugged her like she was the most important person in the world.

The voice chuckled a little. “So that’s it, huh? All right, then. You’d do well, there, too, and I’ve never been one to cause misery, so it’d better be GRYFFINDOR!”

The last word was yelled for the whole hall to hear, and Satsuki released her breath in a rush as the hat was pulled from her head. She hopped off the stool and practically floated to the Gryffindor table, but Daiki stood to meet her before she could sit and she found herself caught up in a giant hug and spun around.

“I knew we’d be together,” he said, his voice low in her ear, and Satsuki thought her heart would explode.

They sat together at the Gryffindor table across from the tall red-haired boy and Tetsu, who met her gaze and smiled; Satsuki couldn’t help but smile back. Then Daiki slung a comfortable arm across her shoulders and tugged her close, and as the sorting came to an end and piles of delicious food filled the golden platters before them, Satsuki finally felt that maybe Hogwarts could be home.

*

Atsushi wasn’t prepared for how dark it would be in the halls of Hogwarts late at night. He knew that there was a curfew, after which any students found out of bed would be punished by their Head of House (Atsushi tried and failed to picture the portly Professor Takeuchi punishing him for being out of bed), but he had assumed for some reason that the halls would still be as brightly lit as they were in the evenings, rather than eerily illuminated by one out of every three torches along the cool, stone walls.

His shuffling footsteps were strangely loud in the silence, echoing off the flagstones and the shining suits of armor. Once or twice he thought he heard someone moving behind him, but whenever he turned, there was no one there.

_Ghosts_ , Atsushi told himself, and due to his childhood in a pureblooded household, the thought gave him no fear.

About three minutes into his trek along Hogwarts’s deserted halls, his stomach growled for the seventh time that night, reminding him of just why he was out of bed at half past midnight. He pressed a hand to his stomach, his fingers crimping against the faded gray fabric of his jumper, a hand-me-down from his big brother, Toshio. He tried not to think about how hungry he was, but his mind kept wistfully returning to the dinner he had eaten six hours earlier, to the roast chicken and the garlic potatoes and the white chocolate bread pudding.

Atsushi’s mouth began to water at the mere thought of that pudding. All of that food had to have come from _somewhere_ , right? So there had to be kitchens nearby, and Atsushi was determined to find them; so determined, in fact, that he didn’t even notice the other boy hurrying along the corridor until he had run straight into Atsushi’s chest.

Atsushi reached out automatically and grabbed the boy by the shoulders before he could topple backward.

“Sorry,” the other boy said with an abashed smile, slightly breathless from their collision. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Atsushi. The other boy’s hand was on Atsushi’s stomach, right where Atsushi’s had been a moment before, and Atsushi felt strangely self-conscious at the thought of the boy’s pale fingers touching the worn fabric of Toshio’s old jumper.

“That was my fault,” the boy said, and he was steady on his feet now, so Atsushi released his hold on him. The boy brushed himself off a little and ran a quick hand through his smooth, dark hair, although a large chunk of it fell back in front of the left side of his face. It struck Atsushi suddenly that this boy was probably Very Cool. He had a sort of Kise-chin aura about him, with his dark eyes and his delicate features, but there was also a calm in him that Kise-chin had never possessed.

Atsushi had the strangest urge to follow this boy anywhere.

And then he realized that the boy had asked him something.

“Sorry, what?” he said, and he would have felt foolish if the boy hadn’t smiled.

“I asked what your name was.”

“Oh,” Atsushi said. “Murasakibara Atsushi. I’m a Hufflepuff.”

“Hello, Murasakibara Atsushi,” the boy said, holding out a hand to shake; Atsushi’s hand completely engulfed his, but the boy didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. “I’m Himuro Tatsuya. Ravenclaw.”

“What are you doing down here?” Atsushi asked. “I thought Ravenclaws were up in a tower.”

“We are, I was just… grabbing something,” Tatsuya said.

Atsushi frowned. “Grabbing what?”

Tatsuya beamed at him and produced a small brown paper bag from his pocket; Atsushi immediately caught the buttery smell of a sweet pastry.

“Food,” Tatsuya said, impish, and Atsushi stared.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice soft with awe— _this boy knew where the kitchens were!_ —and of course that was when his stomach chose to let out another long, low growl.

Amazingly, Tatsuya didn’t laugh. Instead, his smile softened again, and he reached out to grasp Atsushi’s wrist.

“Come with me,” he said.

Tatsuya led him through the dimly lit halls, back the way he had come. They descended the staircase that would eventually lead them to the Hufflepuff common room, and just as Atsushi opened his mouth to ask where they were going, Tatsuya came to a halt beside a large, gold-framed painting of a bowl of fruit.

“Watch closely,” he told Atsushi, and then he reached out and tickled the green pear in the painting. The pear giggled and squirmed, and then transformed into a small, green doorknob, which Tatsuya took hold of and, with an arch glance at Atsushi, turned.

The painting swung open into an enormous, high-ceilinged room. Five tables, currently empty, stood in exactly the same formation as the tables in the Great Hall. Around the stone walls stood heaps of pots and pans, scrubbed to gleaming and ready for use, and across from the door was a large fireplace, burned down to glowing, shifting embers.

“Master Himuro! You’re back!” A tiny voice piped up from near the fireplace, and a house-elf wearing a bright white tea towel bustled over, grinning widely. “Would you like something more to eat? We can cook up anything you like.”

“Actually,” Tatsuya said, smiling at Atsushi and reaching back to grasp his hand and tug him forward, “my friend here is feeling a bit peckish. Would you be willing to make him a little meal?”

“Of course,” said the house-elf, turning his wide eyes onto Atsushi and bowing low enough for his long nose to brush the floor. “Any friend of Master Himuro’s is a friend of ours.”

“Er,” said Atsushi, trying not to think too much about Tatsuya’s hand squeezing his. “Thank you.”

The house-elf rose from his bow and clapped his hands twice. Four more house-elves appeared from the shadows near the fireplace. They exchanged some quick words with the first house-elf, who gestured toward Atsushi—the other house-elves’ eyes widened when they saw his size, but they only nodded vigorously at whatever the first house-elf was telling them—and then clapped again, apparently the signal for food to be fetched.

Tatsuya towed Atsushi over to the equivalent of the Slytherin table, and they sat down to wait.

“So,” Atsushi said, folding his hands in his lap; his right hand was still warm from being held in Tatsuya’s. He curled his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. “Do you come down here a lot?”

Tatsuya lifted a shoulder. “I suppose. I know the caretaker here—Alex, you’ll probably run into her soon, she teaches Care of Magical Creatures—and she told me how to get into the kitchens during my first year.”

“You’re not a first year?”

Tatsuya glanced away from where the elves were sautéing something that smelled absolutely heavenly to fix Atsushi with an amused look.

“No, I’m in my second year.” His lips curved into a wry smile. “Why, do I look like a first year?”

Atsushi shrugged and looked away. “Just curious,” he muttered.

“I’m just teasing, Atsushi,” Tatsuya said, and Atsushi felt the back of his neck flush with warmth at the sound of his name spoken in Tatsuya’s soothing voice. “Do you have any requests while the house-elves are cooking?”

“Bread pudding,” Atsushi said.

“I’ll go tell them.” Tatsuya rose, and he casually tousled Atsushi’s hair as he walked by.

Atsushi stared down at his hands while he waited. He’d always been self-conscious about his hands, big and spidery, with huge square palms and too-long fingers and fingernails always just a little too short. People were always uncomfortable with how large his hands were, but Tatsuya had been completely unfazed. He hadn’t flinched when Atsushi had shaken his hand, had even deliberately taken Atsushi’s hand not once, but twice.

That was pretty cool.

“Voila.” A steaming, heaping plate of pasta, piled high with mushrooms and shallots and asparagus and huge pink shrimps, appeared on the table in front of Atsushi, and Tatsuya slid back into the seat across from him, grinning over his own plate of food. “The bread pudding will be up in a few minutes, they just need to reheat it.”

“Thanks,” Atsushi said, already heaping garlicky noodles onto his fork, and Tatsuya chuckled.

“Anytime, Atsushi.”

Atsushi paused mid-chew, glancing at Tatsuya from beneath his bangs.

“Do you mean that?” he asked.

Tatsuya’s eyes widened, and he paused in the act of twirling noodles onto his fork. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Atsushi chose not to delve into his past of broken promises—promises from Aka-chin, that they’d be together at school; promises from Kuro-chin, that the rift between their families wouldn’t be that bad; promises from Toshio, that he wouldn’t fly too high with Atsushi on the broom—and instead focused on Tatsuya’s earnest dark eyes, on his kind face, his willingness to overlook Atsushi’s hulking awkwardness and overlarge hands.

“No reason,” he said.

A house-elf—the first house-elf, the one in the white tea towel—tottered over, a large silver tray laden with two large helpings of gooey, sweet-smelling bread pudding hovering above his head. The tray settled gently on the table between Atsushi and Tatsuya.

“Enjoy!” chirped the house-elf, and Tatsuya turned a thousand-watt smile upon him.

“You’ve really outdone yourselves tonight, Tolly,” he said. “Thank you.”

The house-elf—Tolly, presumably—flushed with pleasure and bowed low to the ground again, and this time his nose definitely brushed the stone.

“You honor us, Master Himuro,” he said, and then he skittered away, still blushing to the tips of his pointed ears.

“Himuro,” Atushi said quietly, mostly to himself, but Tatsuya tilted his head inquisitively, so Atsushi added, louder: “Hey, can I call you Muro-chin?” And yes, that name felt nice on his tongue, and it definitely fit this strange, kind, cool boy sitting across from him over plates of wonderful, steaming food.

Tatsuya pursed his lips. “‘Muro-chin,’ eh?” he said, and his lips curved. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that. Muro-chin it is. You’re all right with Atsushi, I assume?”

Atsushi nodded, considering the matter decided, and went back to devouring the mound of pasta on his plate.

Yeah, he thought, peering through his hair at Tatsuya again while trying to hide his smile. Yeah, he could get used to this.


	4. Chapter 4

The windows were open in the Great Hall, letting in the cool early morning air. The enchanted ceiling above was clouded over and just beginning to drizzle. Kuroko was one of the first people down for breakfast. He had one of his schoolbooks propped in front of him, held open by a heavy, gilded porridge pot, but he hadn’t read a single word in the past twenty minutes. He picked idly at the scrambled eggs on his plate and stared blankly through the pages in front of him, and his right knee jiggled nervously beneath the table.

Quidditch tryouts were being held that morning. He’d first heard about them from his roommate—Kagami Taiga, the one he'd met on the train, who talked too loudly and who snored sometimes and who periodically gave Kuroko curious looks when he thought Kuroko wasn’t watching—and had later verified the time and date from a bright flier tacked to the message board in the Gryffindor common room. Apparently Kagami had already been approached by the Gryffindor captain, as had another first year, Aomine Daiki.

Kuroko knew Aomine, of course. He came from a pureblood family, and not a family of “blood traitors,” like Kuroko’s. (Kuroko clenched his teeth a little and stabbed a tad too enthusiastically at his eggs at that thought, sending some of the eggs flying off his plate.) But Kagami… Kagami was a half-blood. Kuroko wondered if that would make any difference to Aomine, when he found out. If it would make any difference to anyone else on the team…

Kuroko huffed out a breath and shook his head, trying to steer away from that line of thought. Those thoughts led to a path too close to his cousins, one of whom—Kuroko’s eyes flicked up from his book to glance at the Slytherin table across the hall, where he could see Akashi Seijuurou sitting by himself, also apparently reading—was here at Hogwarts with him.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Kuroko blinked and looked up—way up—to find Kagami standing across from him, his hair still sleep-mussed, his tie a little crooked.

“No,” Kuroko said. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Kagami settled on the bench across from Kuroko, pulled his plate close, and started piling ridiculous amounts of food upon it. Kuroko watched in awe and, honestly, a little bit of revulsion as Kagami piled heaps of eggs and bacon and sausages and toast and potatoes upon his plate. Only when the plate couldn’t possibly hold any more did Kagami begin to eat, and Kuroko was astonished at the amount of food that disappeared into Kagami’s stomach.

“What are you staring at?” Kagami asked eventually, between a mouthful of jam-covered toast and bacon.

“Nothing,” Kuroko said, hurrying to look back to his book, which was still on the same page it had been turned to half an hour previously. “Sorry.”

“What’re you doing up so early, anyway?” Kagami asked. “You’re not usually such an early riser on the weekends.”

Kuroko slumped down a little to hide his surprise behind the pages of his book; Kagami had noticed his sleeping patterns? They’d only been rooming together for about a month.

“Quidditch tryouts are this morning,” Kuroko said. “I wanted to get some practice in before they started.”

Kagami’s entire face lit up. “No way, you too?” he said. “That’s great! Why don’t we practice together? I’d like to size up my competition.” He grinned as he said this and, despite the fact that there was some jam at the corner of his mouth, Kuroko couldn’t help but smile back.

“Sure,” he said, closing his book and setting down his fork. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Kagami shoveled one more heaping forkful of eggs and potatoes into his mouth, chugged down his glass of pumpkin juice, and—to Kuroko’s great relief—swiped a napkin over his lips before getting to his feet.

“I’m ready,” he said.

They had to run up to their dorm room to grab their brooms and stow Kuroko’s book, but soon enough they were walking together in comfortable silence toward the empty Quidditch pitch.

Kagami was the first to speak. “So what position do you play?”

“Seeker.”

“That makes sense.” When Kuroko gave him an inquiring look, Kagami just shrugged and added, “You’re a little guy. Little guys make great Seekers.”

“What about you?” Kuroko asked, unsure quite how to take that almost-compliment.

“I’ll play anywhere,” Kagami said, “but I heard from the captain that they’re looking for a Beater, so I figure I’ll try my luck there. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try for Chaser, but I hear there’s another really good first year who’s going for that spot, so you never know.”

“Aomine Daiki.”

Kagami blinked at him. “What?”

“Aomine Daiki,” Kuroko repeated. “The other really good first year is Aomine Daiki. He’ll play Chaser.”

Kagami frowned at him. “You seem pretty confident about that.”

“I am.”

“Hmph.” Kagami lifted his broom—a sleek Nimbus 2001, which Kuroko couldn’t help but eye with more than a little envy—and slung it casually over his shoulders. “You know the guy?”

“A little.”

“Kiyoshi-senpai says he’s pretty talented. I haven’t seen him play yet, though.”

_Kiyoshi-senpai._ Kuroko’s grip tightened on his broomstick. The way Kagami said it—so casually, so comfortably—surely meant that he’d already spoken to the captain at least once before. Probably more. Apparently Kuroko would have to work extra hard to make sure he was noticed among the captain’s early favorites.

“You okay?” Kagami was watching him, looking almost concerned.

Kuroko forced a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s hurry.”

They walked the rest of the way to the pitch in silence a little less comfortable than it had been before, but as soon as they passed beneath the stands and emerged upon the field, they both came to an abrupt halt, eyes going wide as they took in the stadium. Three tall golden hoops stood on each end of the pitch, rows and rows of stands rose up on every side, and the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest were visible just beyond the far end of the stadium.

Kagami whistled, loud and low. Kuroko silently agreed.

Then Kagami turned to him with a smile like a sunburst and said, “Ready to fly?” 

It felt like the most natural thing in the world for Kuroko to smile back and say, “Of course.”

They both swung a leg over their broomsticks, crouched for the barest moment, and then kicked off into the sky.

Kuroko sucked in a deep breath at the familiar sensation of leaving his stomach far beneath him. Air rushed past his ears, made his eyes water, fluttered in his school robes. He could see the castle, the forest, the gamekeeper’s cabin, the lake. He could see for miles, it seemed, and he had never felt so _free_.

Something streaked past him, dark and lightning quick; he jerked in surprise, but then he heard laughter on the wind and he couldn’t help but grin as he gripped his broom tightly and shot off after Kagami, straight down the pitch. They did a few laps around the stadium, and Kuroko was proud of the way his old Cleansweep kept up with the Nimbus, although he had a feeling that sometimes Kagami slowed for him a bit on the turns. He’d catch only glimpses of the other boy—his flushed cheeks, his windswept hair, his laughing mouth—and it was like Kuroko had left his stomach behind all over again.

After their fourth time around, Kagami banked gracefully and flew over to hover beside Kuroko, slightly out of breath.

“Wanna try some practice shots? I think there’s a Quaffle in the locker room. You can Chase, I’ll Keep.”

Kuroko was nodding before he could properly think this over, his mind on flight and freedom and whether the feeling in his stomach might be something like friendship, and then it was too late; Kagami had already sped off toward the ground, heading for the small dark door to the Gryffindor locker room.

They set up at the end of the pitch closest to the school. Kagami tossed the old Quaffle—dull red and scuffed with overuse—to Kuroko, then flew over to take up a position before the goalposts. Kuroko hefted the Quaffle, tossing it lightly from hand to hand. The pleasant swooping feeling in his stomach had been replaced with butterflies. This wasn’t his first time playing Chaser, of course, but he’d never been… well, he’d never been quite good at it. He didn’t have the arm power or precise aim it took to be a good Chaser. He was great with passes—catching had never been a problem, hence his chosen position—but scoring was another matter entirely.

“Go!” Kagami called to him, flashing him the “okay” sign, and Kuroko took a deep breath, curled the Quaffle under his arm, and shot off for the goals.

It only took eight shots and eight easy saves for Kagami to become frustrated.

“Look, I know you’re not a Chaser, but I’m not a Keeper, either,” he said, coming away from the hoops to toss the ball back to Kuroko. “Are you really serious about trying out for the team?”

Kuroko caught the Quaffle one-handed, stared at it for a moment, and then threw it back to Kagami, who caught it against his chest.

“Throw that as hard and as far as you possibly can,” Kuroko said.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Kuroko said, keeping his gaze steadily on Kagami’s face. “As hard as you can. Okay?”

Kagami looked incredulous. “Okay. Uh… when?”

Kuroko raised a brow. “Now would be good.”

Kagami flushed, then gripped the Quaffle tightly in his right hand, wound up for a throw, and heaved it high into the sky and three quarters of the way down the pitch.

Kuroko shot off like a rocket, never taking his eye off the Quaffle. The ball was starting its descent, and he mentally calculated its arc, where it would fall, where he would need to be to catch it. Less than a second later he had snatched it up in one hand and turned round to fly back to Kagami.

He tossed the Quaffle back to an open-mouthed Kagami and said, “Again.”

Six throws—each increasingly difficult as Kagami began to realize what Kuroko was trying to prove—and six catches later, Kagami was grinning again.

“Let’s get out the Snitch,” he said, and then a whistle blew beneath them and they both looked down to see a group of older students standing on the grass below them, each holding a broomstick.

“You’re early!” called the tallest boy, broad-shouldered, with messy brown hair. Kuroko recognized him as the captain, Kiyoshi Teppei. He was grinning up at them, a bright red Quaffle palmed easily in one hand. Just behind him were two of the other returning members of the Gryffindor team: a glaring bespectacled boy and a girl with short brown hair who was tapping a Beater’s club against her leg.

“Sorry!” Kagami said as he and Kuroko landed in front of the team. “We just wanted to get some flying in before tryouts.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Kiyoshi. “That shows initiative. I like it.”

“Tryouts start in fifteen minutes,” said the bespectacled boy. He jerked a thumb toward the stands. “Go wait over there with the other hopefuls.”

Kagami scowled and opened his mouth for a retort, but Kuroko jabbed an elbow into his side before he could speak, making him wheeze.

“Thank you, we will,” Kuroko said with a little bow, ignoring Kagami’s outraged look and the female Beater’s soft snicker.

“Don’t mind Hyuuga,” Kiyoshi said with an apologetic smile as Kagami and Kuroko headed for the stands. “He’s a little crabby in the mornings. We’ll come get you when it’s time to start.”

“Right,” grumbled Kagami.

Once they were out of earshot, Kagami glanced over his shoulder to make sure the older students weren’t watching, then smacked Kuroko on the back of the head.

“What the hell was that for?” he hissed.

“You were going to say something disrespectful,” Kuroko said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, so?”

“Hyuuga-senpai will be our teammate if we do well today,” Kuroko said. “You shouldn’t antagonize him. Be respectful of our upperclassmen.”

Kagami rolled his eyes and slung his Nimbus over his shoulder, shoving his other hand into the pocket of his robes.

“‘ _If_ we do well,’” he repeated. “Hn. We’ll be fine.”

Kuroko peered at him sidelong, taking in the confident slope of Kagami’s shoulders, the assurance in his stride, the determination in his eyes. “You think?”

“I do.”

Kuroko had to look away to hide his smile.

The stands were already starting to fill with new prospects and people eager to watch the Gryffindor team fly. Kuroko scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces, and sure enough, there was Midorima sitting stiff-shouldered near some fellow Ravenclaws, Kise lounging alongside an unfamiliar dark-haired Hufflepuff, and further away, surrounded by a small huddle of Slytherins, sat Akashi, who must have felt eyes upon him; he met Kuroko’s gaze coolly, his expression as blank as a porcelain doll’s.

“Oi,” Kagami said, drawing Kuroko’s attention away from that unnerving red and gold stare. “That’s Aomine, right?”

Kuroko followed Kagami’s gaze to the small group of Gryffindors waiting to be tried out. Off to the side, leaning against the stands with his broom propped beside him, was Aomine Daiki. While the other Gryffindors milled around and chatted amongst themselves and appeared to be generally very nervous, Aomine looked… bored. He slouched against the wall and stared up into the brightening morning sky, his eyes glazed, his hands in his pockets.

“Yes,” Kuroko said, his stomach twisting slightly. “That’s him.”

“He doesn’t look so tough,” Kagami said, glaring at Aomine. He was gripping his broomstick so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

“He’s very good.” Kuroko turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch Aomine anymore; instead, he watched the members of the Gryffindor team fly in tight patterns around the pitch, warming up before tryouts.

“How do you know?” Kagami asked. “You two friends or something?”

“Or something,” Kuroko said, trying not to think about toy broomsticks and summer tournaments and makeshift Quidditch pitches lit only by fireflies. He wondered if Aomine had seen him yet. He wondered if Aomine would even say anything if he had.

Before he could wonder any further, though, the Gryffindor team landed in front of the group of hopefuls and Captain Kiyoshi stepped forward, windswept and beaming.

“Good morning! We’re very glad you all decided to come try out. We’ll start the trials with basic drills, and then we’ll test for specific positions. Now, everyone on your broom; we’re starting with five laps around the pitch.”

It turned out to be a good idea to start with basic drills. There were some students who could hardly stay on their broomsticks, let alone fly in anything resembling a straight line or at a speed more than a snail’s pace, so quite a few of the new prospects were weeded out within the first few minutes.

Kuroko watched very closely those who remained. He and Kagami breezed through the first round of tryouts, of course, as did Aomine, who seemed to have finally noticed Kuroko’s presence. It happened on the second lap around the pitch; Kuroko saw it in the widening of Aomine’s eyes when they turned at one of the end zones, Aomine ahead, Kuroko a little behind. But neither of them stopped and neither of them called out to the other, and the tryouts continued without any further contact between the two of them.

After the first round of cuts, Kiyoshi had the remaining hopefuls—eight of them, including Kuroko, Kagami, and Aomine—declare a position for which they were trying out. Seekers were tried last, so Kuroko was forced to watch Aomine—who flew like he was born to it, all strange, natural grace—score goal after goal on an increasingly impressed and frustrated Kiyoshi, who did manage a couple of magnificent saves, although they occurred late in Aomine’s trial. None of the other Chasers could hold a candle to Aomine’s performance, and the team really only needed one more Chaser, so Aomine it was.

Beaters were up next, and Kuroko fidgeted as he watched a scrawny second year attempt to whack Bludgers through the targets set up in the stands opposite. Two others tried after the scrawny boy, one of whom—a hulking fifth year named Wakamatsu, trying out for the team for the first time—had remarkable power behind his hits but iffy aim, and then it was Kagami’s turn.

Kuroko chewed his lip as Kagami kicked off the ground, bat in hand, but he needn’t have worried. Kagami sent each Bludger soaring through its targeted hoop and even sent one winging into the stands when a group of unfamiliar Slytherin upperclassmen began catcalling and whistling at Riko, who was hitting Bludgers at Kagami during his trial to test his reflexes and performance under pressure.

Kiyoshi’s scolding for that was halfhearted, especially since the Slytherins had scattered just in time to avoid getting hit, and soon after, Gryffindor had its new Beater.

That left the Seeker.

Kuroko glanced over at the other student waiting to try out. He looked like another first year, and he was fidgeting nervously with his sleeves. He stopped when he noticed Kuroko looking at him.

“Er,” he said, smiling nervously. “Hi. I’m Ogiwara Shigehiro.”

Kuroko smiled despite the nerves tumbling in his belly. “Kuroko Tetsuya.” He gestured at Ogiwara’s right sleeve. “Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh, this.” Ogiwara rolled up his sleeve, frowning down at the old leather gauntlet on his wrist. “They’re my brother’s old ones. They’re nice, but a little tight on me. What about you? You don’t have any?”

Kuroko glanced at his own bare wrists, his hands clenching around the handle of his broomstick.

“No,” he said.

“Here.” Ogiwara propped his broom in the crook of his elbow and started unwrapping the gauntlets. “You can wear these. I’ll borrow my friend Mochida’s, he’s sitting up in the stands right now.”

Kuroko stared at the offered gauntlets, his eyes wide. “Are you… are you sure?”

“Definitely,” said Ogiwara, grinning. “And hey, good luck!”

“Thank you.” Kuroko took the gauntlets in a daze. They were made of black, supple leather, and when he slid them on, they fit him perfectly. Ogiwara waved at him and hurried back to the stands. Kuroko waved back, still a little stunned.

“Are you ready?”

Kuroko turned to see Hyuuga and Kiyoshi standing before him. Kiyoshi held up a handful of little orange golf balls.

“We’ll be starting with these,” he said. “You’re Kuroko, right?”

“Yes.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Kuroko.”

Kuroko glanced back at Ogiwara, who was standing near the stands holding a new set of gauntlets and having a loud conversation with an older dark-haired boy. Kuroko pressed his lips together tightly, finished strapping on the gauntlets, and turned back to the upperclassmen.

“I’m ready.”

Kuroko felt strangely distant as he stepped onto the pitch between Hyuuga and Kiyoshi. A quick look to his left showed the rest of the Gryffindor team standing at the ready. Kagami was beside Riko, already looking completely at home among the older students. He gave Kuroko a quick smile and a nod, and Kuroko’s tummy flipped oddly. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to stand next to Kagami, to be a part of that team.

And then his gaze drifted and he made eye contact with Aomine, standing at the back of the group. Kuroko couldn’t help himself, he was too lost in a daze, too caught up in his daydreams; he smiled. Aomine rolled his eyes and looked away, but his lips quirked into a little smirk, and Kuroko’s chest went warm.

“We’ll throw three balls to start,” Hyuuga said, “so we can see how well you catch. Then we’ll bring out the Snitch, and Riko and Kagami—“ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder; Riko grinned at Kuroko, waving her bat. “—will do what they do best. You’ll be timed. All right?”

Kuroko nodded.

“Let’s do it.” Hyuuga climbed onto his broom, and Kiyoshi and Kuroko did the same. There was the usual swooping sensation in Kuroko’s stomach as he went airborne. The wind caught his hair, the sun—just starting to peak out from behind the morning’s misty cloud cover—glinted off of Hyuuga’s glasses.

“Get ready!” called Kiyoshi, and Kuroko’s grip tightened around the handle of his broomstick, the world narrowing only to the orange golf balls in Kiyoshi’s hands.

Three throws.

Three catches.

Kuroko made them all.

Kiyoshi was grinning by the time Kuroko pulled up after performing an ear-popping dive to catch the final golf ball.

“Riko, Kagami!” the captain yelled down to the team, and Riko and Kagami soared up to meet them.

“Izuki, release the Bludgers and the Snitch!” called Hyuuga.

“Don’t go easy on me, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said as Kagami circled him.

Kagami grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Below, Izuki opened the heavy wooden ball chest and kicked it, releasing the chains on the Bludgers. Both balls whizzed into the air, and Riko and Kagami sped off in hot pursuit. Then Izuki stooped and came up with his fist closed, nodded up to Hyuuga, and opened his fingers.

Kuroko caught a glimpse of gold, and then the sun hit the Snitch, a Bludger whooshed past his head, and the trial was on.

Kuroko ducked the other Bludger, rolled to avoid Riko as she dive-bombed him, and darted off toward the opposite end of the pitch, trying to get a clear view of the field. He heard the crack of a bat hitting a Bludger and glanced over his shoulder just in time to roll again to avoid getting knocked off his broom.

Kagami blew past him after the Bludger, laughing openly, and Kuroko grinned at his back. Then he turned, scanning the pitch for any sign of the golden Snitch.

Only distantly did Kuroko remember that he was being timed. His mind was on the Snitch, on the Bludgers, on Riko and Kagami blurring past him. He had no idea how much time he spent dodging and weaving and squinting into the sun before he finally spied a glint of gold near the middle hoop of the nearest goal. His heart racing, he sped for the goal, hand outstretched. He never took his eyes from the fluttering little ball, concentrated only on catching it, he could do this, _he could do this_ —

“HA!” His fingers closed tightly around the Snitch, and he thrust his hand triumphantly into the sky. The wings tickled his skin between the leather of the gauntlets, and he couldn’t stop smiling. He turned around, ready to fly back to Kiyoshi and Hyuuga, but before he could move, Kagami pelted out of nowhere and smacked away a Bludger mere feet from Kuroko’s face.

Kuroko blinked at him. “Oh. Thank you.”

Kagami shrugged, grinning, his face flushed and his hair windblown. “We’ll be on the same team soon. It’s my job to protect my Seeker.”

Kuroko’s face grew warm, and then Kiyoshi flew up to them, smiling broadly.

“Well done!” he said. “Four minutes forty-eight seconds, and not a single hit with a Bludger. Very impressive.”

“Thank you,” Kuroko said; his heart was fluttering as much as the little ball in his hand.

“You can let the Snitch go, we’ll use it to try out the next kid. Head on down to the stands. We’ll let you know our verdict after the last trial.”

Kuroko opened his hand and watched the Snitch flit away.

Then Kagami punched him in the arm.

“Ouch,” Kuroko said, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

“You did good,” Kagami said, and flew off to rejoin the rest of the team.

Kuroko landed near the stands just as Ogiwara was getting ready to walk onto the pitch. The other boy held up a hand for a high-five, his eyes bright.

“Nicely flown,” he said, and Kuroko smiled as they slapped hands, gauntlets clapping together.

“Thank you,” he said. “Good luck.”

Kuroko had every intention of watching Ogiwara’s trial, but then a soft voice called to him from the stands.

“Tetsuya.”

Kuroko looked up into the placid gaze of Akashi, for once not surrounded by his Slytherin friends.

“That was well flown,” Akashi said. “I expect to see you on the pitch for our first match against Gryffindor.”

“Thanks,” Kuroko said, and then Akashi’s words sank in; he frowned. “Wait, Slytherin already had their trials?”

“I’m the team’s new Seeker.” Akashi smiled slightly. “It should be an interesting match. Until later.”

He nodded to Kuroko and turned to leave the pitch. Kuroko watched him go, and his eyes were drawn to the other students who’d stayed to watch the trials, all of whom were now starting to trickle back to the castle. Midorima had just gotten to his feet; he caught Kuroko’s eye and gave a little nod, then allowed himself to be dragged away by his dark-haired companion, who noticed Kuroko watching and flashed him a grin and a wink.

“Good job, Kurokocchi!” called Kise from his group of Hufflepuff friends, and then he, too, was dragged unceremoniously from the stands.

By that time Ogiwara’s trial was well underway. He’d already managed to snag the golf balls, and now he was searching for the elusive Snitch. Kuroko watched with mixed feelings: on the one hand, he liked Ogiwara and truly thought they could be friends, so he wanted him to do well; on the other, he wanted desperately to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and couldn’t imagine losing out. Especially not after what Kagami and Akashi had said, after they’d shown so much faith in him—

But his worries came to nothing. It took Ogiwara more than eight minutes to snag the Snitch, and he was hit by one of Riko’s well-aimed Bludgers in the process, which meant…

“Kuroko!”

Kagami landed right in front of Kuroko, leapt off his broom, and hooked an arm around Kuroko’s shoulder, ruffling his hair.

“We did it, we’re on the team!” Kagami said, and soon the whole team was there, patting their shoulders and tousling their hair and yelling about their three first year prodigies.

_Three prodigies_ … Kuroko peered up from beneath Kagami’s arm and saw Aomine grinning down at him, his own dark hair ruffled, his cheeks flushed.

“Congratulations, Tetsu,” he said. He held out a fist, and Kuroko’s heart soared as he raised his own, bumping their knuckles together.

A glimpse of his own gauntleted hand reminded him of Ogiwara, and he ducked out from beneath Kagami’s arm, saying, “I’ll be right back.”

Ogiwara was standing off to the side of the pitch near the locker room doors, unstrapping his gauntlets. Kuroko hurried over to him, already starting to remove his own.

“Ogiwara-kun!” he called. “Your gauntlets.”

Ogiwara turned toward him, startled, then smiled weakly. “Keep ‘em. You’ll be needing them.”

“Oh, I… thank you,” Kuroko said. He looked down, shuffling his feet a little. “You flew well, you know.”

“Not as well as you,” Ogiwara said. He shrugged. “Hey, no hard feelings. Our team’s gonna be great this year. Just make sure we win, all right?”

Kuroko smiled. “All right.” He held up his hand, and Ogiwara gave him a high-five.

“I’ll see you around, Kuroko,” Ogiwara said.

“See you.”

Ogiwara grabbed his broom and headed off the pitch, waving over his shoulder, and Kuroko turned back toward his team.

His team.

He watched them for a moment in silence. Kiyoshi slung an arm over Hyuuga’s shoulders only to get elbowed in the ribs for his troubles, Riko laughed at something Izuki had whispered into her ear, Aomine slugged Kagami on the shoulder and then laughed at Kagami’s indignant squawk.

“Oi, Kuroko!” Riko yelled, waving at him. “Get over here! You can celebrate a little, you know!”

Kuroko smiled and started walking toward his team. _His team._

He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, look who finally updated after months and months.
> 
> kpop took over, apologies to all, but i had a sudden resurgence of affection for these dumbs this evening and decided to sidle in with a fresh chapter.
> 
> reminder: these chapters will not always be in chronological order. for example, these drabbles take place probably somewhere around third or fourth year. sorry for any confusion, but sometimes we want to write in different eras without the need to fill in all the time in between!
> 
> thanks, guys - enjoy!

Kagami groaned, letting his head fall back against the overstuffed armchair he was sprawled in.

“Honestly, Kuroko, it’s not that hard,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The frozen flobberworm counteracts the euphoric side-effect so people don’t run around leaping into each other’s arms every time they need a little pick-me-up. It makes complete sense.”

Only silence answered him, and he looked down to see Kuroko staring blankly up at him from his seat on the floor.

“What?” Kagami said.

“In what possible way does any of that make sense to you?” Kuroko asked.

Kagami shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just… Potions, I guess. It’s like cooking. You just follow the recipe, and every ingredient has its own purpose in the final product.”

“But it’s insane.”

“Not as insane as waving your wand around and turning yourself into a crayfish.”

“That was one time!” Aomine yelled from across the common room, where he was doing his own homework with Momoi as a supervisor; Momoi grabbed his chin and forced his head back down toward his parchment.

Kuroko shook his head. “I’m just glad I have Kagami-kun to tutor me before our tests.”

Kagami felt his cheeks grow warm. He turned away from Kuroko’s bright gaze, focusing instead on the flames leaping merrily in the large grate.

“Just let me know if you need any more help, okay?” he said.

“I will,” said Kuroko, and Kagami could hear the smile in his voice.

Little bastard.

It was already growing late. Many of the students had already retreated to their dormitories, leaving behind only those who still had homework to complete. Kagami had long since reopened his Astronomy book to pass the time while Kuroko continued to work on his Potions essay. The room was quiet but for the crackle of the fire, the grumbling and scratching of quill against parchment from Aomine’s table, and Kuroko’s intermittent sighs as he tried to accurately explain the correct way to brew and serve a Pick-Me-Up Potion.

Kagami did not look up from his memorization of Jupiter’s moons until it was almost one in the morning, and that was only because Aomine grunted out a good night as he packed up for the night. Kagami waved to him and Momoi as they headed up to their respective dorms, and only then did he notice the time, and the slight weight against his leg.

Still a little disoriented, Kagami glanced at his leg, thinking perhaps someone’s pet had decided to settle there for the night (Riko’s cat had a habit of finding Kagami’s lap whenever he was just starting to feel like standing up), but instead of the usual black fur and gleaming golden eyes, he saw light hair and a pale face.

“Kuroko?” Kagami whispered, assuming Kuroko was just resting his head for a moment, but there was no response. Kagami craned his neck until he could get a good glimpse of Kuroko’s face.

Kuroko was fast asleep.

Kagami sighed. Kuroko’s essay lay forgotten on the rug, still only three-quarters of the way completed. There was a little ink blotch on the parchment where Kuroko’s quill had slipped from his fingers when he’d fallen asleep; Kagami carefully leaned down, picked the quill up, then used his wand to siphon off the excess ink from the paper.

Kuroko shifted, and Kagami froze, waiting to see if he would wake. But Kuroko just inhaled deeply, turned so he was snuggled even closer against Kagami’s leg, and went right back to sleep.

There was hair falling into Kuroko’s face, just barely covering his closed eyes, and Kagami had reached out to brush it back before he even fully registered moving. Kuroko’s hair was as soft as always, something Kagami was used to after so many teasing tousles, and Kagami’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. His chest felt too warm and very full, like his lungs and heart had expanded to three times their normal size, and he gave into the temptation to very gently rest his hand on that pale head, letting the soft strands slide through his fingers.

 _Crap_ , he thought, distantly, but the thought faded when Kuroko sighed in his sleep and turned even further into Kagami’s leg, perhaps searching for warmth, perhaps searching for Kagami.

 _Crap_ , Kagami thought again, much louder this time, because his heart was thudding painfully loudly and he had absolutely no inclination to move his hand from Kuroko’s hair.

Just as Kagami was trying to decide whether or not he should wake Kuroko, pale lashes fluttered open and Kuroko blinked awake, his blue eyes glazed and sleepy. He stared at Kagami’s jean-clad leg for a moment, then up into Kagami’s face, a tiny crease in his brow.

“Kagami-kun?”

Kagami opened his mouth to reply, but found he had to swallow a couple of times before he could respond. He removed his hand carefully from Kuroko’s head, praying that maybe Kuroko wouldn’t notice it had been there.

“You fell asleep, idiot,” he said finally, and when Kuroko just stared blearily up at him, Kagami sighed and reached down to help Kuroko into a standing position. “Come on.”

He managed to get Kuroko upright, but as soon as Kagami crouched to collect Kuroko’s essay and inkwell and quill, he felt a light pressure on his shoulder and glanced over to see Kuroko swaying beside him.

“Sorry,” Kuroko said, removing his hand from Kagami’s shoulder, but Kagami just stood and shoved Kuroko’s things into his discarded schoolbag.

“Here,” Kagami said, thrusting the bag into Kuroko’s arms. “You carry this, I’ll carry you.” He turned his back to Kuroko and stooped, preparing for a piggyback.

“Are you sure?” Kuroko asked, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder.

“It’s not far, and you’re not that heavy,” Kagami said. “Plus you’re dead on your feet. Let’s go.”

Kuroko stepped up and wrapped his arms around Kagami’s neck, gripping tightly as Kagami scooped Kuroko’s legs out from under him and hefted him up onto his back.

“It’s a good thing Kagami-kun is so big and strong,” Kuroko said, mostly into the back of Kagami’s shirt.

“Don’t think I won’t drop you,” Kagami growled, and Kuroko chuckled.

The trip up to the dormitory was, indeed, a quick one, and Kagami tried not to concentrate too hard on Kuroko’s breath on his neck or the way Kuroko’s strong little fingers clutched at his shoulders. Once inside, Kagami went straight to Kuroko’s bed, turned so his back was to the bed, and plopped Kuroko right onto the sheets, where he bounced slightly, smiling.

“Thank you, Kagami-kun,” he said, letting his bag drop from his shoulder onto the floor.

“No problem,” Kagami grunted, and he was about to head for his own bed when Kuroko caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and reeled him back in, pulling him down so they were at eye level.

Kuroko gazed at Kagami in silence for a moment, pale eyes shining in the darkness, and then he lifted his other hand, cupped Kagami’s cheek, and raised his chin to press a warm, chaste kiss to Kagami’s forehead.

Kagami felt like his heart had stuttered to a stop.

Kuroko gently moved his hand from Kagami’s cheek to his hair, stroking through the short strands at his temple before giving his hair a tug, smiling.

“Good night, Kagami-kun,” he said, keeping his voice soft, presumably to avoid waking their roommates.

“What, that’s it?” Kagami said before he could help himself, and Kuroko laughed and curled his fingers in Kagami’s hair and leaned forward again, this time to press his lips tenderly against Kagami’s, still warm and chaste but with just enough pressure to make Kagami’s breath catch. He reached out and cupped Kuroko’s cheeks, gently, not wanting to push this too far, wanting to see how far he _could_ push, wanting to make sure this was real. Kuroko’s hand slid to the back of Kagami’s neck, gripping tightly, while the other went from circling Kagami’s wrist to entwining their fingers together, clutching tightly.

Kagami could hardly believe what was happening. He’d thought about it before, fleetingly, when Kuroko would linger a little too long in a hug or catch his eye across the crowded dining hall or laugh with him as they flew around the pitch during Quidditch warm-ups, but he had never before thought that Kuroko might have the same ideas. To know that Kuroko was so confident in this—so _pleased_ with this—was something else entirely, and Kagami found himself rather stunned, unable to do more than enjoy the close warmth of Kuroko and the soft pressure of his lips, now parted and slick, breathing hot into Kagami’s mouth.

Kuroko was the one to finally pull away, his cheeks flushed, but he was still smiling, which Kagami supposed was a good sign.

“Not tonight,” Kuroko whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to Kagami’s cheek. “But soon.” He kissed Kagami’s other cheek. “Very soon.” Another kiss on the lips, quick and open-mouthed.

“You’re serious about this,” Kagami said, breathless, and Kuroko squeezed his hand.

“Quite serious,” he said.

“Okay. Okay, cool. Um. Great.” Kagami stood up abruptly, feeling like he was ten feet taller than usual, all uncoordinated limbs and flaring hormones. The way Kuroko was watching him—his face full of sleepy, fond amusement—didn’t help. Little bastard. “I’m just gonna. Go to bed, then. Um. Want to work on your Potions essay tomorrow morning before class?”

“Yes, I would like that very much,” Kuroko said, still smiling that damn smile, and Kagami just had to lean down and kiss it from his lips, slow and lingering.

“Good,” he said, feeling rather satisfied by Kuroko’s red lips and wide eyes when he finally pulled away. “Good night, Kuroko.”

“Good night, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said faintly, and Kagami managed to keep it together until he grabbed his bathroom kit and left the dormitory to perform his nightly ablutions. Only then did he pause to lean against the door and stare down the dark stairwell, thinking only of Kuroko.

It wasn’t until he got to the bathroom that he saw the giant, dopey grin on his face, and because it was so late and he was all alone in the bathroom, he felt no need to wipe it off.

*

Snow swirled outside the windows of the Great Hall and spun in sparkling flurries across the enchanted ceiling. Fairy lights danced in the branches of the twelve towering fir trees decorating the hall, and the room buzzed with laughter and conversation as the students finished their last feast before the winter holidays.

Aomine did not share in the merriment. He frowned down at his empty plate as he had for the entirety of the meal, completely ignoring Kagami roaring with laughter beside him at some joke Izuki or Kiyoshi or Wakamatsu had just told. Aomine glanced up for a moment, peering down the table to where Satsuki was sitting. He watched her poke at her pudding with the very tip of her spoon, not eating a bite. She looked up when she felt the weight of his gaze, and he hurriedly averted his eyes.

A bony elbow jabbed him none too gently in the side.

“Oi,” Kagami muttered. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Aomine said, elbowing Kagami in return, probably a little harder than necessary.

Kagami rubbed his side. “You have to talk to her at some point,” he said. “You can’t put it off forever.”

“Oh yeah?” Aomine said with a scowl. “What do you know?”

Kagami shrugged and turned back to his dessert, a heaping pile of treacle tart.

“I’m just saying,” he said, and shoveled a truly disgusting forkful of tart into his mouth.

Aomine rolled his eyes and found himself looking at Satsuki again. She caught his eye before he could look away and flashed him a sad, uncertain smile that just about broke his heart. Aomine forced himself to smile in return, albeit weakly, and she relaxed a little, her shoulders drooping.

Well. That was a start, at least.

Aomine went back to staring at his gleaming dessert plate, his brow furrowed. He had to do it tonight. There was no putting it off anymore. Aomine had seen how that hulking Ravenclaw—Otsubo or Otsobu or something, it didn’t really matter, Aomine would kill him regardless of his name—had sidled up to Satsuki in the hallway that afternoon, asking her about Quidditch tactics— _Quidditch tactics_ , of all things. Could the guy be any more transparent?

And then— _and then_ —there had been that loud kid on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Hayakawa—or no, it was his friend, the Chaser, Moriyama—and he’d offered to carry Satsuki’s books after combined Charms the other day, and what the hell was that all about? It was like all of these random guys were suddenly starting to realize what Aomine had known since he was three: that Satsuki was smart and pretty and sly and funny and basically the best girl at Hogwarts, and way too good for any of the guys who were suddenly so determined to woo her.

The only thing they didn’t seem to realize yet was that to get to her, they’d have to go through Aomine first.

Aomine clenched his hands on his knees, digging his fingernails into the fabric of his jeans. He could feel his secret trump card—the most important prop for his plan that night—digging into his thigh, tiny barbs poking through the thin fabric of his pocket lining.

“Mistletoe,” Wakamatsu had told him earlier that day, when Aomine had run to him in a desperate attempt to come with a plan. (Well, he hadn’t necessarily been looking for advice from Wakamatsu in particular; it’s just that he was the only upperclassman Aomine knew who was in the common room at the time.) “It’s Christmas, right? Just use mistletoe as the catalyst for a kiss and see where it goes from there. That’s what I’d do.”

And then he’d punched Aomine in the arm, so Aomine had kicked him in the shin and left him cursing in the corner of the common room.

Aomine shoved one hand into his pocket, curling his fingers around the prickly sprig of mistletoe. He’d torn it down from the stairwell leading up to the Astronomy tower that afternoon and had been carrying it with him ever since. His hand kept straying to his pocket, making sure it was still there, and every time he touched it he pictured what he was about to do, and his stomach flipped like a fish on dry land.

Someone tapped him gently on the shoulder, and he jumped, his head whipping around.

Satsuki stood just behind him, smiling, although her eyes were still sad.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“Yes,” Aomine said, but it came out as a croak, so he cleared his throat, stomped on Kagami’s foot (he _heard_ that snort, the bastard), and repeated: “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

He clambered to his feet and reached blindly, unthinkingly, for Satsuki’s hand. His hand closed around soft, pale skin, and he was just about to yank his hand away— _what was he doing, this wasn’t right, not yet, not yet_ —when Satsuki twined her fingers in his and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Come on,” she said, and led him from the Great Hall.

They ended up in a deserted hallway on the first floor, occupied only by one shining gray ghost, who drifted through the far wall with a sigh when he saw them coming.

Satsuki let go of his hand when they were alone and turned to face him, folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t look sad anymore; rather, she glared at him, fuming, glorious, incandescent.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” she asked.

“I—wait, what?”

“Don’t deny it, Dai-chan. You’ve barely spoken to me over the past few weeks, and I’m getting sick of it. I’m tired of feeling guilty because _you’re_ being weird. So out with it.” She spread her arms, her eyes narrow and flashing, dangerous. “What did I do? Are you mad at me? Is something going on that I don’t know about? Why are you suddenly acting like I have some sort of disease?”

“I didn’t mean—” Aomine broke off, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize I was avoiding you. I was just… I was planning.”

Satsuki raised an eyebrow. “Planning what, exactly?”

Aomine shoved his hands into his pockets, his right hand clenching around the mistletoe again, crumpling the prickly little leaves.

“This isn’t…” He frowned, scowling down at his trainers, scuffing his toe on the floor. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“How _what_ was supposed to go?” Satsuki asked, exasperated.

Aomine tugged the mistletoe from his pocket and held it aloft between them.

Satsuki blinked at him owlishly, then at the mistletoe, and then back at him. And then her face lit up in a smile—an entirely different kind of incandescence—and she threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing like a song in the empty hallway.

Aomine let the mistletoe drop to his side. He could feel his cheeks burning, could feel his neck prickling, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to punch something or cry or flee or all of the above.

“You don’t have to laugh about it,” he muttered, tossing the mistletoe aside, wishing he could set it on fire. Where was his wand—?

“I’m sorry, Dai-chan,” Satsuki said, still giggling, but at least she looked a little contrite. “It’s just… I thought you were building up to something awful. This is such a relief.”

“What do you mean?” Aomine said.

Satsuki sighed and stepped close—closer than she’d been in a very long time—and she met his eyes for one heart-stopping moment before curling her hands into his collar and tugging him down for a kiss.

Aomine’s arms circled her automatically, one hand threading into her soft hair, the other curling around her waist. She smelled clean and fresh and a little like roses, and everything about her was soft—her hair, her lips, her body pressed against his. Her lips parted in a sigh and suddenly there was tongue in this kiss—in their _first_ kiss, and part of Aomine thought that there was probably something wrong with that, this wasn’t supposed to happen on a first kiss, but it felt so nice and it was _Satsuki_ , surely she knew what she was doing, so Aomine just went with it, tilting his head a little to better fit their mouths together, closing his eyes against the smooth slide of their lips.

Satsuki’s cheeks were dusted pink when she pulled away, her eyes even brighter than usual, and she didn’t even pull all the way back, still pressed comfortably against Aomine’s chest.

“There,” she said, sounding rather satisfied. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Aomine felt a flash of disappointment, because no, that wasn’t all he wanted, not by half. But Satsuki must have seen it on his face, because she grinned and cupped his cheeks in her hand and kissed him again, short and sweet.

“I want this, Aomine Daiki,” she said quietly, for his ears only. “I want _you_. Always have. Is that okay?”

If Aomine didn’t know any better he’d say he was flying.

“Yeah,” he said, curling around her, holding her close, because now he could, and he didn’t think he’d ever get sick of that. “Yeah, that would be perfect.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update! in celebration of season 3, mostly, but also because these drabbles have just been languishing on my harddrive for months and it's time for them to finally see the light of day.
> 
> this chapter once again takes place later on in their hogwarts years, the first half when the miracles are in their sixth year, the second probably when they're in their fourth or fifth. (clearly there is a very precise science behind the timing in this fic.)
> 
> ANYWAY, i hope you enjoy, and hooray for season 3!

Kuroko woke to a loud thump, followed by grumbling, shuffling, a quiet curse word, and then a large hand smacking the hangings around his four-poster.

“Oi, time to get up, Kuroko,” said the grumbling voice, and with a _whump_ Kuroko felt something heavy get tossed onto the foot of his bed, tangling up the hangings. “I want to get out there early.”

Kuroko took a deep breath and stretched beneath the sheets, letting his eyes gradually adjust to the soft gray morning light leaking through a crack in the hangings. He took a moment to stare at the dark canopy above him, letting images of the previous night replay in his mind: Kagami’s hands gripping his hips, warm and secure; Kagami’s breath, humid and heavy against Kuroko’s throat; Kagami’s voice, rough and wrecked even when barely audible in the silence of their dorm.

Kuroko tugged the sheets over his face, feeling his cheeks heat as his heart began to pound. Had that really only been last night? It seemed like ages ago, in another era, featuring other people in another place.

Kuroko turned his head, looking at the slight indent in the pillow beside his. Kagami had fallen asleep there. Kuroko remembered it clearly: the way he had fit so nicely against Kagami’s side, the way Kagami’s arms had curled around him, safe and snug. The way Kagami had kissed his hair.

Kuroko reached out, but the sheets beside him were cold.

Kagami had gone back to his own bed while Kuroko slept.

“Kuroko. You up yet?”

Kuroko banished that last thought from his mind for the time being, trying to ignore the way it made his chest go cold. He fumbled for the part in his hangings and drew them back.

Kagami was already half-dressed in his scarlet Quidditch robes. His toothbrush stuck out of one corner of his mouth as he hopped around, struggling to tug on thick woolen socks.

“Lezgo, K’roko,” he said around the toothbrush, speckling the ground with toothpaste. “Up an’ at ‘em.”

Kuroko saw his own Quidditch robes in a heap at the foot of his bed. With a sigh he threw back the sheets and slipped out of the nice, cozy warmth of his bed. The air in their dorm room was downright freezing against his bare skin, and he hurried eagerly to his own trunk, digging for socks and jeans.

Behind him, he heard Kagami gargle and spit into the dish on the nightstand.

“Why does Hyuuga insist on such early practices?” Kuroko asked, barely stifling a yawn as he tugged on the first pair of jeans he could find.

“Wants to beat the Slytherins to the pitch, I think,” Kagami said. “You know how Akashi is.” He sounded distracted; Kuroko glanced over his shoulder, wondering if this was a sign that Kagami was also thinking about what had happened last night, only to find Kagami looking at himself in the small mirror over his nightstand, running a hand over his jaw. “Damn,” he said. “Might have to shave soon.”

Kuroko flushed slightly and hastily buttoned his pants, then slid his arms into his Quidditch robes. For some reason the idea of Kagami needing to shave—of Kagami having _stubble_ —did interesting things to his tummy that had nothing to do with how empty it was.

“You about ready?” Kagami had his Nimbus 2001 on his shoulders already, his wrists hooked casually over the handle. Kuroko grabbed his own broom, looked down to make sure he was wearing pants and a shirt and shoes, then flashed Kagami a thumbs up.

“Let’s go.”

But Kagami was looking at him with a strange expression, part amusement, part incredulity, mostly affection.

“Aren’t you going to fix your hair?” Kagami asked.

Kuroko turned to look at himself in his own mirror and was faced with his usual morning bed-head. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, fluffing it until it settled more naturally, then suddenly remembered something.

“Ah, Kagami-kun?” he said.

Kagami grunted, already at the door.

“Wait for a moment? I forgot to brush my teeth.”

Kagami made a face at him over his shoulder, then sighed. “Make it quick. I’ll meet you down in the common room.”

“You won’t leave without me?”

“Why would I do that?” Kagami said, and Kuroko’s tummy did that funny flippy thing again. “It’s the first practice of the year. We have to go down there together.”

Kuroko brushed his teeth in a daze after Kagami left, staring by turns out the window and at the door through which Kagami had just left. Their other roommates were still abed, free of the responsibility of Quidditch practice, and Kuroko could hear Furihata’s quiet snores rumbling from behind the hangings on his four-poster.

Honestly, it was a miracle none of them had woken up last night (or maybe they had and they were just doing their utmost not to mention it, like that time Kawahara had walked in on Kagami and Kuroko making out on Kagami’s bed and pretended to not even notice that Kuroko had been divested of most of his clothing).

That thought brought Kuroko back to Kagami’s strange behavior. Although now that he thought about it, Kagami’s behavior was only strange because it was so utterly normal. Kuroko wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected after the first time they’d… _you know_ , but it certainly hadn’t been complete nonchalance. Weren’t they supposed to talk about it? Laugh about it? Or, at the very least, exchange significant glances about it?

Kuroko rinsed, spat, and set his toothbrush aside, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He decided not to worry overmuch. Kagami didn’t seem mad at him, at least, and he wasn’t ignoring him or anything, so maybe this was just the way these kinds of things were dealt with, and Kuroko would just have to live with it. He collected his broom and hurried down the steps to join Kagami in the common room.

The fire had burned down overnight. Kagami was standing near the hearth, staring into the embers, leaning on his broom. He turned when he heard Kuroko approaching.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m good,” Kuroko said.

“Let’s go.”

The halls were quiet as they headed down to the entrance hall, their echoing footsteps the only sound. The October air was crisp and the grass still damp beneath their sneakers as they headed outside to the Quidditch pitch.

“You’re quiet,” Kagami said.

Kuroko glanced up at him, but Kagami’s eyes were focused on the stands in front of them.

“I’m savoring,” Kuroko said. “It’s not every day we walk down to the first Quidditch practice of our sixth year.”

Kagami huffed out a laugh, then bumped his arm against Kuroko’s and twined their fingers together, squeezing gently.

Kuroko glanced down at their entwined hands, and then decided to hell with not worrying, because this right here—this casual intimacy, this tiny gesture that was enough to make Kuroko’s entire abdomen fill with butterflies—this was too important to screw up.

“Kagami-kun,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you go back to your own bed last night?”

Kagami’s eyes widened. “I, uh. You—what?“

“I won’t be mad,” Kuroko said, as calmly as he could, even though his heart was racing like a rabbit’s. “I just want to know.”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

Kagami stopped walking just outside the Quidditch pitch, tugging Kuroko to a halt. Kuroko peered up into Kagami’s face, but Kagami’s eyes were dark in the chilly shadow of the stands, and Kuroko had a hard time deciphering his expression.

“You kicked me out,” Kagami said quietly.

Kuroko blinked. “I did what?”

“You fell asleep, and then you started twisting around and kicking and fighting me. I tried to calm you down, but you wouldn’t settle until I’d gotten out of bed, so…” Kagami shrugged. “So I let you sleep.”

Kuroko just stared at him, horrified. Kagami frowned and squeezed Kuroko’s hand again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” Kuroko blurted. “It was our first night together, and I—”

“And you didn’t want to cuddle?” Kagami’s grin was wry.

“No, I _do_ want to cuddle,” Kuroko said, dropping his broom and pressing close to Kagami just to prove his point. He buried his face in the front of Kagami’s Quidditch robes and wrapped his arms around Kagami’s waist, clutching tightly. “It was just a nightmare or something, I’m sorry. I’ll never kick you out of bed again, I promise, I’ll always want you there. I want to cuddle. I do.”

“Okay,” Kagami said, a little startled. He let his Nimbus 2001 drop so he could hold Kuroko, one hand stroking his hair, the other curled around his back. “We’ll try it again tonight, all right? No harm done. I just thought you weren’t much of a cuddler, that’s all.”

“I _am_ a cuddler,” Kuroko said, his voice muffled against Kagami’s chest. He knew he sounded like a petulant child but he didn’t particularly care, not even when Kagami chuckled at him and especially not when he felt the soft press of lips in his hair.

“Come on,” Kagami said, mostly into Kuroko’s hair. “Let’s fly.”

The sun was just peeking through the early morning clouds by the time they were airborne, and Kuroko let his worries wash away as he flew beside Kagami. They did a few lazy laps of the pitch, never outpacing each other, always in tune, and once when they slowed Kagami reached out and grabbed a fistful of Kuroko’s robes and reeled him in for a midair kiss that sent Kuroko’s stomach plummeting and his heart soaring. Only a very firm grip on the handle of his broom kept him from falling, and when Kagami pulled away, grinning broadly, it was Kuroko who lurched across the distance between them and dragged Kagami back into a fierce kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy and so, so good.

Kagami made a surprised sound against Kuroko’s lips, but he let his broom drift close enough for their legs to press together and then there was a strong hand at the nape of Kuroko’s neck and teeth nipping lightly at his bottom lip and Kuroko curled his hands into Kagami’s robes and held on, content to never let go.

“Locker room?” Kagami breathed as he trailed kisses over Kuroko’s jaw.

“What’s wrong with right here?” Kuroko asked, letting his head fall back as Kagami brushed his lips lightly over Kuroko’s neck, leaving behind goosebumps and a pleasant shiver down Kuroko’s spine.

“I’d rather not fall to my death snogging on a broomstick, thanks,” Kagami said with a low little laugh, and Kuroko shivered as he felt that laugh reverberate through the body pressed so close to his.

“Okay, locker room it is,” he said, and within moments they were both on the ground, stumbling in their haste to get off of their brooms and into the locker room and both seemingly unwilling to stop touching the other.

They had barely gotten inside the Gryffindor locker room before Kagami dropped his broom and pressed Kuroko against the wall near the door, kissing him breathless. Kuroko let his own broomstick fall to the ground and slid his hands over Kagami’s waist, gripping tightly, tugging him close. Kagami’s nose was cold where it brushed Kuroko’s cheek, probably from the brisk October wind, and Kuroko wondered for a brief moment whether his lips were terribly chapped. They didn’t seem to hurt very much, and Kagami didn’t seem to mind them, given the enthusiasm of his kisses, so Kuroko shoved that thought aside and focused instead on Kagami’s tongue in his mouth, on the firm warmth of his hips under Kuroko’s palms, on the heat gradually pooling deep in Kuroko’s belly.

Kagami curled a hand behind Kuroko’s neck, long fingers sliding through his hair. His other hand was at the small of Kuroko’s back, pressing gently, and then it slipped down to cup Kuroko’s ass, making Kuroko gasp into Kagami’s mouth.

Kagami pulled away with a wicked little smile, and Kuroko found himself unable to look away from Kagami’s bright eyes, from his red lips and flushed cheeks. Wonderingly, Kuroko brought his hands up to cup Kagami’s cheeks and said, with barely a thought, “I love you.”

Kagami’s eyes widened, and at first Kuroko thought he’d said something wrong. Visions of break-ups and punches and accidentally kicking people out of bed flashed through his mind, but then Kagami ducked down and kissed Kuroko with such fervor that their teeth clashed a little, but it didn’t matter, because when Kagami pulled away, he was still smiling, and he said, “I love you, too.”

Kuroko felt like his face would split from how broadly he grinned, and he linked his hands together behind Kagami’s neck and hopped up a little to hook his legs around Kagami’s waist. Kagami caught him with practiced ease and pressed him once again against the locker room wall. Kuroko buried his face in Kagami’s neck, mouthing the sensitive skin just below Kagami’s right ear, and rubbed himself against Kagami’s lower abdomen just enough to elicit a rough-edged gasp.

And to think that earlier that morning Kuroko had thought this would never happen again.

What a wonderful change.

Kuroko writhed again, smiling against Kagami’s skin when he felt the answering hardness pressing against him.

“Wait, you want to do this now?” Kagami asked breathlessly, his fingers curling against Kuroko’s ass, still holding him aloft. “Here? It’s almost time for— _nnghgod_.” He broke off with a moan when Kuroko moved again.

“Now,” Kuroko said, placing a hand on Kagami’s jaw, the better to guide him into another open-mouthed kiss.

“Okay,” Kagami breathed into his mouth, but just as Kuroko was about to grind against him again, the locker room door burst open.

Kuroko froze; he felt Kagami do the same. For a moment, no one moved or spoke, and an unnatural stillness hung over the room.

“All right, you have two minutes to get a hold of yourselves,” drawled a low voice, and Kuroko glanced over to see Aomine standing in the doorway, looking rather bored, although perhaps a little red in the face. “Then the whole team will be in here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Kuroko said, because Kagami still seemed incapable of thought, let alone speech. Aomine grunted and slammed the door shut, leaving them alone once more.

“ _Merlin’s_ balls,” Kagami cursed, carefully letting Kuroko slide to the ground, and Kuroko barely stifled his laugh.

“It’s fine,” he said, brushing his robes to get them back into some semblance of order. “I’ve walked in on him and Momoi-san plenty of times.”

“You’ve done what?”

Kuroko smiled; Kagami looked utterly scandalized. “Aomine-kun has a bad habit of leaving his dorm room unlocked.”

Kagami stepped over to the wall and slid down it, burying his face in his hands. “Ugh, jeez, I don’t want to know that.”

Kuroko watched him for a moment, his chest strangely warm, and then he knelt down beside him and leaned over to kiss Kagami’s temple.

“I still love you,” he said. “Even though apparently you’re a bit of a prude.”

Kagami let out a helpless laugh and reached out to hook an arm around Kuroko’s neck, drawing him in close. He pressed his lips to Kuroko’s forehead, and Kuroko could feel his smile.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

*

“Himuro!”

Tatsuya looked to his left and reached out a hand just as the Quaffle soared by, passed to him by a grinning Imayoshi. Tatsuya snatched the ball out of the air and curled it under his left arm before shooting off for the Slytherin goalposts.

“And there goes Himuro of Ravenclaw with the Quaffle!” Momoi Satsuki’s voice rang clear across the stadium, bright and excited. “Should be a clear shot to the goals, and then his only obstacle will be Slytherin’s Keeper, Nebuya, who’s been having a pretty good game so fa— _whoa_ , close call there, watch out for those Bludgers! Some nice flying from Himuro, and he’s back on track.”

The commentary faded gradually into background noise as Tatsuya approached the goals, focused only on the Quaffle in his hand and the hulking form of Nebuya before him, hovering menacingly in front of the center hoop.

A dark shape suddenly barreled towards Tatsuya from his left side. Tatsuya swerved at the last moment to avoid a collision, but something hard struck his head as the shape blew past, making Tatsuya see stars, and a low voice said, “Fucking Mudblood.”

Before Tatsuya could grasp what had just happened, he heard through the ringing in his ears the solid crack of a bat hitting a Bludger, and then there was only blinding pain, the distant sound of screaming, and a slow descent into darkness…

The next thing Tatsuya knew, he was flat on his back on the pitch, blinking away tunnel vision. It took a few seconds for light and color to return, but once it did he found himself staring up at Imayoshi, who was kneeling beside him on the grass, looking—for once—oddly serious.

“Wha’ppened?” Tatsuya slurred, trying to sit up, but Imayoshi put a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

“Haizaki,” he said grimly.

“Oh.” It was the only response Tatsuya could think of. His brain felt a little mushy. He pressed a hand gingerly to his throbbing forehead and winced at the contact. His fringe felt sticky, and his fingers came away red. “How long—?”

“Not even a minute,” Imayoshi said, glancing over his shoulder. “Alex is dealing with Haizaki right now. She looks pretty pissed, so—”

He broke off, clearly startled by whatever he’d seen.

“Whazzit?” Tatsuya tried once more to rise, wanting to see what Imayoshi was looking at. He managed to get one elbow beneath him and he turned his head to the right, ignoring the way that movement made the whole pitch spin.

The stands were still full of students all milling anxiously about, their myriad conversations pitched to a dull roar. The Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams were all on the ground looking tense; Tatsuya was rather touched to see that his teammates had formed a kind of barrier between him and the Slytherins, and the two teams were glaring daggers at each other.

Beyond the Ravenclaw team, Tatsuya could see Taiga running toward them from the stands, yelling something unintelligible over the roar of the crowd, accompanied as always by the small, pale Gryffindor Seeker. Alex was just turning to meet him, her face pale with fury and fear, and just to the right of her stood Haizaki.

Or at least… that’s where he _had_ been standing.

Now he was dangling about a half a foot in the air, held aloft by the massive hand wrapped around his throat. His usual disdainful expression had shifted into primal fear, and his eyes were beginning to bulge.

But Tatsuya barely spared him a glance. He had eyes only for Atsushi.

Tatsuya knew that there were some students who were frightened of Atsushi, whether because of his size or his Quidditch skills or his powerful friends, but Tatsuya had never been one of those people. He could think of no reason to fear his friend, and so had always laughed off those who thought him crazy for hanging out with such a “monster.”

But Tatsuya had never seen Atsushi look as terrifying as he did just then. His lips were curled into a snarl, his eyes dark and narrowed, and he’d never looked so _big_. The muscles in his arm rippled as he squeezed Haizaki’s throat, and then he lifted his other hand, curling his fingers into a truly giant fist.

“Never. Touch him. Again,” Atsushi growled, and Tatsuya felt the breath rush from his lungs.

Atsushi sounded absolutely livid.

Tatsuya expected Haizaki to apologize and back down when faced with such fury, but the big Beater just grinned through the pain, even while his hands scrabbled helplessly at Atsushi’s hand around his neck. He twisted and spat onto the ground.

“I’ll fuck with that pretty Mudblood whenever I want,” he gritted out, baring his teeth, and then—

_WHAM._

Atsushi slammed his fist into Haizaki’s face with enough force to break Haizaki’s nose; Tatsuya heard the crunch. Atsushi’s hand came away bloody and Haizaki’s face looked a mess, blood-spattered and stunned, but Atsushi was already reeling back for another punch when Akashi finally stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm.

“Enough.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Atsushi froze immediately, shifting his gaze down to Akashi’s face.

“He hurt Muro-chin,” he said, his voice still rough and low and wrathful.

“He won’t do it again, I can assure you,” Akashi said, and Tatsuya felt a shiver run down his spine; he believed him.

Atsushi wavered for a second, his eyes flicking between Akashi’s serene face and Haizaki’s bloodied one, and then he lowered his fist and let Haizaki crumple to the ground.

“See to your friend, Atsushi,” Akashi said as he stepped past Atsushi toward Haizaki. “I’ll take care of this animal.”

“Thank you, Aka-chin.”

Atsushi gave Haizaki one last scathing look, then turned away from him, toward Tatsuya. The change was instantaneous: his eyes softened, his shoulders slumped, his entire expression shifted from rage to concern.

Tatsuya felt strangely light-headed as Atsushi approached. He couldn’t quite reconcile the furiously violent young man he’d just seen with the gentle giant he’d come to know. His trepidation must have shown on his face, because Imayoshi placed a hand on his shoulder, and the other members of the Ravenclaw team stepped determinedly (although a little timidly) into Atsushi’s path.

Atsushi stopped, casting a surprised look at the students standing in his way. He frowned, looking past them to Tatsuya. Tatsuya shivered a little when those dark eyes met his.

“Muro-chin?” Atsushi said, and he sounded plaintive, almost childish—like his usual self.

Tatsuya patted Imayoshi’s hand, trying to ignore the way his own hand trembled.

“It’s fine,” he said, quiet enough that maybe Atsushi wouldn’t hear.

“You’re sure?” Imayoshi said.

“Yes.” It wasn’t quite a lie.

Imayoshi nodded and stood to join the rest of the team, who moved aside to let Atsushi pass.

And suddenly Atsushi was there, crouching down in front of Tatsuya, reaching out with those big hands, the right one of which still had Haizaki’s blood on it. Tatsuya couldn’t help himself.

He flinched.

Atsushi froze, his eyes wide.

“You…” He trailed off, clearly hurt, and Tatsuya felt his face grow warm with shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s just… I’ve never seen you like that before, and I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

Atsushi slowly pulled his hands back. He wiped the blood from his knuckles onto the grass.

“I was angry,” he said. “He hurt you. He should never…” Atsushi screwed up his face and clenched his hands in his lap, clearly trying to control his rage again. “No one should ever hurt you.”

Tatsuya felt very warm all of a sudden, and the wound on his face started throbbing with new vigor as blood rushed to his head.

“Atsushi—” he said, struggling into a proper sitting position, but that was just enough motion to make the world spin again and he tipped forward into Atsushi’s arms. Atsushi caught him easily, making a startled sound, and his arms were gentle when they closed around him.

“Muro-chin, you’re bleeding,” Atsushi said.

Tatsuya just hummed into the front of Atsushi’s robes. His eyes had fallen closed again and it was nice to be held; it made his head hurt less, and it was so much easier to just let his head be fuzzy rather than to keep fighting for clarity. Clarity was overrated, and so was being awake, for that matter…

“Don’t fall asleep,” Atsushi said, and Tatsuya could hear something like panic in his voice. A large, warm hand caressed the side of his face, pushing back his bloody fringe, and Tatsuya felt Atsushi draw in a sharp breath. “Muro-chin, do _not_ fall asleep. I’m taking you to the hospital wing.”

Tatsuya barely summoned the energy to hum a response to that, so instead he just nodded a little bit, but that hurt his head, so he stopped soon after. Strong arms curled around him, one around his back, the other beneath his knees, and then the whole world rotated behind his eyelids and honestly, it was a miracle he didn’t hurl.

The arms tightened and the world began to sway as Atsushi started walking.

“Muro-chin,” Atsushi said, and this time Tatsuya was sure he could hear panic. “Please open your eyes.”

Tatsuya frowned; that sounded like so much work, but Atsushi sounded really worried, so…

The sky was very bright. Tatsuya squinted at it, then turned his head so his face was pressed against Atsushi’s robes. He could see Atsushi looking down at him, and he forced a weary smile.

“’m awake,” he mumbled. “Getting blood on your robes.”

“I don’t care.”

“Tatsuya!”

Tatsuya rolled his head to the side so he could smile at Taiga, who looked pale and wide-eyed and who was wearing a blue and bronze rosette on his robes in support of Ravenclaw, and wasn’t that nice, his little bro showing some solidarity…

“Taiga,” Tatsuya said, trying to reach for him, trying to sound reassuring, but he must not have done a very good job because Taiga looked as frightened as ever.

“Are you—?” he began, taking a step forward, but Atsushi cut him off, not unkindly.

“I’m taking him to the hospital wing.”

Taiga’s lips pressed together in a white line. He looked like he was about to say something else, or maybe try to wrest Tatsuya from Atsushi’s arms, but then his pale little Seeker came up to him— _Kuroko_ , right, that was his name—and placed a hand on his arm without saying a single word and, amazingly, Taiga subsided.

“Take care of him,” he said to Atsushi, his voice fierce, and then his voice softened and he said, “I’ll be up to see you soon, Tatsuya.”

Warmth flooded Tatsuya again and he flopped a hand at Taiga in a drunken semblance of a wave, and then Atsushi turned and Taiga was gone.

Tatsuya supposed this was rather what it felt like to be drunk, although logic would argue that he probably just had a concussion. And also blood loss. Yep. That was a lot of blood crusting up the left side of his face.

“I’ll be fine, ‘tsushi,” Tatsuya felt the need to say, because he didn’t like seeing Atsushi’s face all crumpled and sad. He lifted a hand and pressed it to Atsushi’s cheek. “You’ll take care of me.”

Atsushi clutched him even more tightly to his chest and lengthened his stride; they were already climbing the steps to the castle, just a few more flights of stairs and then maybe Tatsuya would be allowed to sleep.

“I’ll take care of you,” Atsushi said, his voice low and firm, and Tatsuya let his hand drop.

“Knew it,” he said, and that was the last thing he remembered.

*

It wasn’t the first time Tatsuya had ever woken up in the hospital wing (the first time was when little first-year Taiga had accidentally hexed him over Christmas Break, when they’d both decided to stay at the castle and have Alex teach them dueling together), but it was the first time he’d ever woken up to find his entire right arm numb beneath the weight of a sleeping Atsushi.

Tatsuya’s head felt perfectly fine, although he could feel the scratchy warmth of bandages wrapped tightly around his forehead. He glanced over at the bedside table to find sundry gifts from his teammates and classmates and—he smiled—what looked to be a freshly baked cake from the kitchen house elves.

Atsushi must have felt him move, because he lifted his head and blinked bleary eyes at Tatsuya. His expression shifted gradually from drowsiness to concern to wariness, probably wondering if Tatsuya would be glad to see him, but Tatsuya just smiled and squeezed the hand holding his.

“Hi,” he said.

Atsushi’s expression cleared, and he squeezed back. “Hi. How do you feel?”

“Fine, I think. What happened with the game?”

“Rescheduled. They didn’t want to play without you, and Akashi kicked Haizaki off the team, so they need a new Beater.”

“Oh. Uh. That’s…” Tatsuya paused, searching for the right word. “Surprising?”

“Not really,” Atsushi said, letting his thumb gently drift over Tatsuya’s knuckles. “He won’t put up with that kind of behavior on his team.”

“I’m guessing Haizaki wasn’t too happy about that.”

“No.” Atsushi tightened his grip on Tatsuya’s hand, his eyes narrowing. “But I’ll never let him touch you again. I promise.”

Tatsuya smiled and lifted their entwined hands so he could press a soft kiss to Atsushi’s knuckles. His smile slowly shifted into a grin as a flush spread across Atsushi’s cheeks.

“Thank you, Atsushi,” he said, and soon after that he fell asleep again, with Atsushi watching over him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme for this update is ANIMALS!
> 
> No, really. I don't know what caused all of the animals, but here they are.
> 
> Again, as per usual, these drabbles take place in different years and at different times, and these three are all set vaguely in their later years, probably 5th or 6th.
> 
> A couple of notes before we begin:
> 
> 1) I have a headcanon that Nigou grows up to be a Large Dog. I need this for reasons.  
> 2) Some of the boys turn out to be Animagi.  
> 3) I haven't written in so long wow.
> 
> And with that, enjoy!

As usual, the first thing Kagami heard was the whining. He paused on the stairs, only steps away from his dorm room, and cringed when the whining increased in fervor, this time accompanied by the sharp scratch of claws on carpet as a certain someone tried to burrow his way out of the room.

“Damnit, Nigou,” Kagami muttered, climbing up to the door. “All right, you dumb dog, you’d better stand back, because I’m opening this door and you are _not_ getting past me this time. Do you understand?”

The whining and scratching stopped, replaced by one deep bark of apparent acquiescence.

Kagami waited another three seconds, making sure the dog was really done, then cautiously opened the door.

Nigou ambushed him in the doorway, as Kagami had known he would. The dog whined and pressed his large, furry head into Kagami’s legs, his tail wagging so frantically that his entire backside shook with it. Kagami sighed and automatically buried his hands in Nigou’s ruff, scratching just below his ears, roughing up his fur. Nigou huffed, pleased by the attention, and tried to turn his head to lick Kagami’s hands, his pink tongue lolling.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Kagami said, shuffling the dog back a few paces so he could step properly into the room. He closed the door behind him, and Nigou turned so he could lean his entire body against Kagami’s legs, peering up at him with shining blue eyes, bright with adoration. Kagami rubbed his ears, scratched under his chin, patted his sides; Nigou let out happy little yelps, always trying to catch Kagami’s hands for a proper doggy kiss, but Kagami never let him.

Finally Kagami gave the room a furtive look, making sure he was really alone, and then he sank to his knees, wrapped his arms around Nigou’s big shoulders, and buried his face in soft, dark fur.

“Hey, furball,” he said, his voice muffled. Nigou placed a huge paw on Kagami’s thigh and sat back on his haunches, making it easier for Kagami to wrap him up in a hug. The dog huffed again and rubbed his face against Kagami’s hair, and Kagami heaved a sigh and sat back with a final affectionate tug on Nigou’s left ear.

“Sorry. And no, he’s still not back, so quit looking at the door,” he added when Nigou glanced expectantly over Kagami’s shoulder.

Nigou let out a low grumble and pawed at Kagami’s leg again, then lowered himself to the floor, resting his big head in Kagami’s lap. Kagami absently stroked the soft fur on his forehead.

“The nurse doesn’t know when he’ll be back on his feet, but she seemed optimistic when I talked to her today, so.” Kagami shrugged. Nigou whuffled at him, pressing his cold nose against Kagami’s pants. Kagami scratched his ears. “She still won’t let me see him. I don’t know why.” He paused, shook his head. “No, he’ll be fine. He’ll be back soon. It’ll be fine.”

Nigou stared balefully up at him, and Kagami sighed again and leaned down to press his forehead to the dog’s, breathing deeply.

Furihata came in minutes later, startling both Nigou and Kagami onto their feet, and the evening took a turn for the pleasant as the other fifth years stumbled in, laughing at something Kawahara had just said. Kagami found himself laughing along with them, joking as usual, and for once everything felt normal.

Well. As long as Kagami avoided looking at Kuroko’s empty, perfectly made bed, which hadn’t been slept in for two nights. Three, now.

The boys wound down sometime around eleven, each retreating behind their bed hangings. Wands waved lazily, dousing the light in the room, and it was only when Kagami was sure that the other boys were sleeping that he pulled back his hangings and patted the bed, the sound soft on the plush red comforter.

Nigou was ready and waiting, as Kagami had known he would be. He crouched and sprang gracefully onto Kagami’s bed. The bed creaked as Nigou arranged himself, stepping twice on Kagami’s legs, once on his back, but then the big dog settled flush against Kagami’s side, his head cushioned on his paws right beside Kagami’s shoulder.

Kagami rubbed Nigou’s ears. “Night, furball,” he said.

Nigou huffed in his face.

*

The dorm room was dark, as Kuroko had expected it would be. He slid his wand out of his pocket and whispered, “ _Lumos_ ,” lighting the room with a dim white glow.

His temples throbbed annoyingly at the sudden light, still not fully recovered from the Bludger he took to the head during their last game against Hufflepuff (most of which he could not, for the life of him, remember), but Kuroko shoved the pain aside. He was more than ready to sleep in his own bed, with his own pillow, his own roommates, and his own dog.

Who was, apparently, missing.

Kuroko blinked at his empty bed, or, more specifically, at the empty nest of blankets at the foot of the bed where Nigou could usually be found sprawled out, waiting patiently for Kuroko to return.

“Nigou,” Kuroko whispered, trying not to wake his roommates.

Something shifted behind Kagami’s curtains, and Kuroko froze, wondering if he’d woken Kagami.

Then he heard a soft whuff.

Eyes wide, Kuroko tiptoed over to Kagami’s bed and quietly, gently, pulled back the hangings. He had to press a hand to his mouth to stifle his surprised squeak.

Nigou blinked blearily up at him, mouth falling open in a doggy grin, his tail whumping softly against the blankets. Kagami was still asleep, lying on his stomach, his lips slightly a parted, a small frown-line between his brows. His right arm was thrown casually over Nigou’s shoulders.

Kuroko pressed a finger to his lips to keep Nigou quiet, then hurried over to his desk. He rummaged as silently and as quickly as he could through the clutter there until he came up with a camera, and then he hurried back to Kagami’s bedside.

It was a miracle the click of the shutter didn’t wake Kagami. The flash made Nigou squint, his snout wrinkling.

Kuroko scratched Nigou just behind his ears—the dog closed his eyes, clearly pleased—then leaned over him to press a light kiss to Kagami’s hair.

“Goodnight, Kagami-kun,” he said, and made to step away, but then his eyes were drawn to the sliver of free space on Kagami’s other side. He wavered for a moment, then tossed the camera onto his own bed, closed the hangings, and hurried to the other side of Kagami’s bed. He drew back the hangings and climbed carefully onto the bed.

Kagami finally shifted, drawing in a deep breath as he hovered on the verge of waking. Kuroko slipped under the covers and curled up against Kagami’s side, pressing his face against Kagami’s shoulder and breathing. Kagami did not fully wake, but he did turn toward Kuroko and slide an arm around his waist, tugging him close. Nigou gave a soft rumble of protest at the loss of Kagami’s arm over his shoulders.

Kuroko flushed and buried his burning face into Kagami’s chest, and even though he was in danger of falling off the side of the bed and Kagami’s sheer solid _presence_ was enough to be distracting and far, far too warm, Kuroko fell asleep within moments, comfortable for the first time in days.

*

It was early evening, and Midorima was alone in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Shadows had crept into the corners, and the dimly flickering light cast by the few remaining torches painted strange shapes on the walls, hulking silhouettes of animal skeletons and spindly stools and jars filled with mysterious liquids. The rest of the class had cleared out over an hour ago, eager to join the dinner rush, but Midorima had felt no inclination to follow them.

At least… not yet.

He sat now slumped on a stool, elbow on the table and chin in his hand, holding his wand lightly between the fingers of his free hand and sweeping lazy circles in the air.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he said in a low voice. Silver light burst from the tip of his wand, illuminating the room, and a large shape leapt delicately to the ground, hooves flashing, short tail erect. The doe shook herself and turned to face him, blinking deep eyes. Midorima reached out a hand, and she pressed her forehead into it, her eyes closing, fur cool against Midorima’s palm.

Midorima sighed.

“ _Now_ you’re friendly,” he muttered.

Class that afternoon had been an embarrassment. All of the fifth years had been thrilled to learn how to cast a Patronus, but that was before they’d learned what their Patronuses would be. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared a combined Defense Against the Dark Arts class that year, so Midorima got to watch as Aomine summoned a lithe, prowling panther that twined around Aomine’s legs like a housecat and snarled if anyone else came near; as Kagami produced—to no one’s surprise—a massive tiger that proved to be surprisingly fond of Kuroko’s shimmering little arctic fox; as Momoi clapped her hands in wonder at the rabbit that leapt delicately through the air around her head, and Takao stroked the breast of the silvery hawk perched on his arm.

Midorima, meanwhile, had trouble keeping his Patronus from bolting in fear through the far wall any time another Patronus approached.

“That happens, with certain animal Patronuses,” Professor Aida had said, rubbing a hand over his scrubby beard and trying not to look too sympathetic. “Sometimes it takes a few summons to really get them steady.”

But the doe _was_ steady, as bright and corporeal as any of the other Patronuses in the room (and quite a bit more than some), but no matter how many times Midorima summoned her, she still shied away from even the smallest wisps of the other students’ Patronuses, until she finally vanished in a startled burst of silvery light when Kagami’s tiger decided to lumber over for a sniff.

Now, she nuzzled Midorima’s hand again, and he patted her nose, smiling slightly. She was lovely, if rather useless thus far. And Midorima could feel his own power in her, the happiness he’d poured into her when he’d summoned her: warm, crackling flames in the grate on a cozy Christmas Eve; the smell of aged parchment and the worn, leathery spines of the books in his father’s study; the breathless rush of adrenaline in his gut as his fingers closed around a Quaffle and sent it soaring through a hoop.

“Well,” Midorima said, curling his fingers into the doe’s fur. “Let’s just hope you’re more useful against Dementors than you are against my peers.”

The doe bumped her nose against his wrist. Midorima sighed again.

There was a knock on the door, and then it creaked open, letting in a slim beam of light.

“Shin-chan?” A dark head peeked around the corner. “Are you still in here?”

Midorima closed his eyes, pretending not to notice the way his Patronus suddenly brightened.

“I’m here, Takao,” he said.

Takao pushed his way into the room, hands in his pockets. “What are you doing all by yourself in the dar—oh.” He blinked, seeming to notice the Patronus for the first time. “Are you practicing?”

“Something like that,” Midorima said.

“She’s so bright,” Takao said, his voice low, holding out his hand to the doe.

“Don’t bother,” Midorima said, “she’ll just—”

But his Patronus wasn’t running away. She cantered right up to Takao, brushing past his outstretched hand to bury her face in his chest. Takao laughed and rubbed her neck.

“Is this normal?” he asked, flashing Midorima a grin.

Midorima stared. “I—she’s never—”

Takao was too busy cooing at the doe, lovingly stroking her head and ears.

“What a sweetheart,” he said. “And she’s so solid. This is really impressive for your first day summoning her, Shin-chan.”

“Your hawk was solid, too,” Midorima said, finally finding his voice again in his automatic defense of Takao’s own abilities.

Takao shrugged. “Yeah, but he was still a bit wispy around the edges. Nothing like this.” He grinned and ruffled the doe’s ears. “At least my hawk was better than Furihata’s mist.”

“I think anything would have been better than Furihata’s mist.” 

Takao smiled and bent his head to the doe again, murmuring to her under his breath. The doe gleamed brighter than ever, her ears twitching in pleasure. 

Midorima shifted in his seat. “I think she likes you.”

“Yeah?” Takao beamed. “I like her too.”

Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the doe’s forehead.

A tiny voice in Midorima’s head gibbered as he felt phantom lips press against his forehead, warm and soft and impossibly close; he shook his head slightly to clear it, unable to hold back a full-bodied shiver.

“C’mon, Shin-chan,” Takao said, completely oblivious. He gave the doe a last pat on the neck. “Let’s get some dinner.”

Midorima sighed shakily and got to his feet. He waved his wand once, and the doe vanished like smoke into the air, leaving behind only the faint glow of bliss in Midorima’s mind and the ghostlike echo of lips on his skin. He and Takao had kissed multiple times over the past couple of years, of course, ever since that time in their third year when they’d been alone together in their dorm and Midorima’s self-control had suddenly not seemed very important to uphold anymore, but this had been different, somehow. More intense. More… intimate.

And Takao was just smiling at him, as though he knew exactly what he’d done.

Midorima narrowed his eyes.

“You know,” he said as he brushed past Takao, letting their fingers entwine, “she’s not alone in her affections.”

Takao’s smile turned impish. “No?”

“No.” Midorima leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Takao’s smiling mouth; Takao hummed happily and arched into the kiss, bringing a hand up to curl into Midorima’s hair. “In fact,” Midorima said, resting his forehead against Takao’s, “I rather believe she takes after her master in that regard.”

“You don’t say,” Takao said.

Midorima kissed him again. “Someday,” he said, his voice low, “I’ll have to show you what it feels like to have someone kiss the very essence of your happiness.”

“Hm,” Takao breathed, his sharp eyes half-lidded. “Why wait?”

“Because…” With one last, fierce kiss, Midorima suddenly pulled away and started for the door, leaving Takao exhaling shakily behind him. “I’m hungry.”

There was a moment of bewildered silence, and then:

“Shin- _chan_ ,” Takao whined, drawing out the last syllable. Midorima just smiled and continued out the door. Takao would follow him, he knew.

He always did.

*

“Password?”

Aomine glared at the Fat Lady’s portrait. She was smiling at him, but there was a knowing gleam in her eye, something mischievous and teasing.

“Hnmrdglzdk,” Aomine mumbled, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t quite catch that—can you please speak up?”

“Honey-mustard glazed duck,” Aomine repeated, almost yelling.

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” said the Fat Lady, slowly swinging open. “Thank you, dearie. Have a wonderful night.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aomine grumbled, stalking past her to the portrait hole.

“Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, now.”

Aomine’s eyebrow twitched. There had been an incident earlier that afternoon in Transfiguration class that had resulted in Aomine turning suddenly into a small yet handsome mallard duck, and even though Professor Masako had put him to rights soon after, he’d been sent to the hospital wing complaining of coughs that sounded suspiciously like quacks.

The rumor must have spread.

“You’re hilarious,” he said.

“I do try,” said the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung closed behind him to the tune of the Fat Lady’s chuckles. Aomine gritted his teeth and strode into the common room.

It was early evening, and the Gryffindor common room was still bustling. Hyuuga and Riko were locked in a fierce game of wizard’s chess in the far corner near the windows, and judging by Hyuuga’s sudden, nigh incoherent outburst, Riko was winning. Kiyoshi was lounging in one of the armchairs near the fire, a history of magic textbook covering his face, probably asleep. Kuroko was by himself at one of the tables, bent over a long scroll of ink-covered parchment, scribbling furiously. He must’ve heard Aomine enter, or had a freaking sixth sense of some kind, because he immediately looked up at him, blinking owlishly.

“Aomine-kun,” he said. “You’re back. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Aomine said, pausing near Kuroko’s table. “A little woozy, but the nurse fixed me up pretty well.”

“That’s good,” Kuroko said. “Although I expected more feathers.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Aomine grumbled. “Look, I’m going to bed. Where’s your roommate? I want to thank him for earlier.” (Kagami had been the one to catch the panicked Aomine-duck before he flew out a window or into a wall, which would only have added to his embarrassment.)

“Upstairs, I suspect.”

Aomine frowned; there was something off about Kuroko’s expression, something somber and guarded.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Kuroko looked down, running his fingers over his quill. “Kagami-kun got some bad news today.”

Aomine recognized that tone. It was the tone Kuroko used when he was very angry about something, but wouldn’t allow himself to lose his temper.

It was the tone he used when Kagami’s asshole father came up in conversation.

“His dad?” Aomine said quietly.

Kuroko said nothing. It was all the answer Aomine needed.

Aomine sighed and reached out to ruffle Kuroko’s hair. “He’ll ask for you when he’s ready,” he said. “You know that.”

“I know.” Kuroko batted his hand away, but his eyes were a bit brighter. “You should get some rest, duck-kun.”

“That’s the plan,” Aomine said, heading for the stairway leading up to the dorms.

“Oh, and Aomine-kun?”

“What?”

“You have a feather in your hair.”

Aomine cursed and ran a hand over his head; a small, downy blue and silver feather floated to the floor. Aomine sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“Goodnight, Tetsu,” he said.

“Goodnight, Aomine-kun.”

The stairway leading up to the dorms was dark, lit only by a few torches lining the walls. Aomine felt some of his tension bleeding away as he climbed the stairs, the hubbub of the common room fading behind him. All he wanted was to wash his face, scrub the fish taste from his mouth ( _mouth, yes, definitely a mouth, definitely not a bill anymore_ ), and crawl into bed.

He came to the first landing and paused, glancing at the closed door on his left. Kagami was in there. Moping, probably. Feeling altogether shitty.

Aomine tapped his fingers against his jeans. He remembered Transfiguration class earlier that day, remembered the panic he’d felt when he’d suddenly into a duck, remembered freaking out and trying to fly away, but being stopped by strong hands that cradled him close against a firm, warm chest and held him still until the counter-spell was cast.

Stupid Kagami.

“Damnit all,” he muttered, and then knocked softly on the door.

“It’s open,” came Kagami’s muffled voice from within, and Aomine gently pushed his way inside.

The room was dimly lit by the lamp at Kagami’s bedside. Kagami was lying on his stomach on top of his comforter, a heavy volume cracked open in front of him. He glanced up at Aomine and smiled slightly.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the amazing duck boy,” he said. “How’re you feeling?

“Like I’m going to be spitting feathers for days,” Aomine said. “I just wanted to thank you for helping out earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad it got sorted out.”

A brief silence fell. Aomine cleared his throat. He hated how bad he was at this whole being-sensitive thing. What were you supposed to say when you knew your friend was feeling shitty, but you had no idea how to help?

“So…” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “How’re you doing?” ( _Ah, yes, very smooth, well done, Daiki._ )

Kagami froze in the act of turning a page. “Kuroko told you.”

“Nothing specific, but it’s kind of obvious that something’s wrong when you two aren’t attached at the hip.”

Kagami rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Look, it’s nothing, okay? My dad just told me that he won’t be around for Christmas this year, so I’m stuck here alone again. It’s no big deal. I’m used to it.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Aomine said. “That’s shitty.”

“It’s fine,” Kagami said again.

“No, it’s not, it’s…” Aomine sighed. “I’m sorry. Can I help?”

“I don’t think so,” Kagami said, smiling weakly. “Thanks, though.”

Aomine made a face. “It’s weird seeing you sad.”

“Yeah, well, sorry about that. I’ll get over it.”

“What does Kuroko usually do to cheer you up?”

Kagami fixed Aomine with a Look.

“Oh god, never mind, forget I asked.” Aomine rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck; was that a feather he felt back there? “What about your other roommates? Do they just let you mope?”

“Well, Nigou usually just flops on me when he thinks I’m sad,” Kagami said. “It’s cute, but he gets kind of heavy after a while.”

Aomine froze; he could feel an idea coming on. He started to grin.

Kagami glanced up at him, and his eyes went wide.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. “Oh my god, Aomine, please do not do what I think you’re going to do, I didn’t mean for that to be a suggestion, it was just a joke—”

Aomine was already shrugging out of his robes and stepping out of his sneakers, his mind already focusing on his lessons from that year, the private ones he and a few others his age (Kagami included) had requested from Professor Masako.

“Haven’t you had enough of being an animal for one day?” Kagami asked desperately, closing his book and watching Aomine warily. “I figured duck time would’ve given you enough to deal with.”

“That was an accident,” Aomine said, tugging off his jumper. “This is on purpose, and it’s going to accomplish two things: number one, it’s going to get the feeling of duck out of my system, and number two, it’s going to cheer you up.”

“Look, I really don’t think this is necessary,” Kagami said. “Is this revenge for the time I pounced on you when we first shifted? Because I swear, that was an accident, I couldn’t control it very well, and I’m sorry tigers are so big—”

But Aomine was already shifting, his mind focused on the sleek form of a black panther. He dropped to all fours as his hands became paws and his skin sprouted thick, black fur, and soon enough he was slinking across the floor and leaping gracefully onto Kagami’s bed, where he promptly perched on Kagami’s back and flopped down.

Kagami grunted, facedown against his comforter.

“You’re heavy,” he said, his voice muffled by fabric.

Aomine’s tail twitched.

“I don’t see how this is supposed to make me feel better,” Kagami grumbled.

Aomine started purring.

Kagami heaved a sigh so heavy that Aomine could feel his entire chest expand and deflate with it. Aomine folded his paws primly over Kagami’s shoulder, careful to keep his claws sheathed.

“This is weird,” Kagami said, still speaking into the comforter. “You know that, right? And you’d better not be shedding. And if someone walks in and sees this, you’re taking full credit for being the crazy one, but…” He paused and reached up awkwardly to pat Aomine’s head. “Thanks.”

Aomine purred louder.

“If you start grooming yourself, I swear to god, I will throw you off this bed.”

Aomine swatted Kagami’s head, again making sure to keep his claws under control, and Kagami laughed, which Aomine figured was the goal, anyway.

Just a few more minutes, and then they’d be even. Comfort for comfort.

That’s how friendship worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize for the semi-crack, but I so rarely write semi-crack that this was a total blast for me, so ta-daaa.
> 
> Also, that last scene was heavily inspired by [this bit of fanart gold](http://40.media.tumblr.com/bcad27e0e707b0c1cf1d9624f4939a3d/tumblr_mqnghevPd91rsprnwo1_500.jpg) ([credit](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=37359766&from_sid=754215078)), which I am forever in love with.
> 
> Thanks for reading, all!


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